Your eyes don't leave him the entire time he holds your son. Most mothers would be the same way with anyone who held their child, but you weren't like that. Everyone who came here to see him, to see you, could be trusted. So why, then, do you think to yourself that you are like a hawk with its eyes on its prey? Because, in a way, that's what you are. And it disgusts you.
You're supposed to love Frank and only Frank. You do love him, just not the way that everyone (including himself) thinks that you do. What you feel for him is friendship, kinship. He is one of the many people who understands what you are going through during this war, and he just happens to be the one you live with. The one you are married to. All of your friends assume you are deeply in love with one another, and you don't want them to know the truth. That you are in love with a different man. That the child in the arms of the man across from you is not Frank's at all, but is instead Sirius Black's.
Frank knows. He knew when you accepted his marriage proposal that you weren't ever going to love him in the way that a wife should love her husband. You were accepting because your real love could not marry you, and because you could not crush the dreams of the boy who you'd been dating for what seemed like ages. At first, it was hard on him. But then he came to terms with it, and he didn't blame you. He was just glad to be around you. But you felt guilty, and you told him that the rest of the world will never know about the problems you've put him through. The shame, if he wanted to call it that. You weren't that cruel.
Sirius looks up, as if he can hear all your thoughts, and flashes you a smile. The joy in it is contagious, and as you relax you give him one in return. "He looks a lot like you."
"Perhaps too much?" You lean forward.
"Never too much."
The eyes you know so well darken and your stomach flutters. You open your mouth to say Neville should be put down for a nap first, that you need to make sure you are really home alone. But before you can get the words out, Sirius has already left the room to do just those things, and when he comes back, your mouth is dry.
He's already unbuttoned his shirt slightly, just enough to drive you wild. And before you can process a single thought, the two of you are undressed and on the floor. You lay on your back, staring up at him, shivering as he touches you. Your mind takes you back to the day your pregnancy began to show. You remember how gently Sirius ran his hand over your stomach, how attentive he was to you. He's just as attentive now, or maybe more so, but you don't care which it is. Neville was born nearly two months ago, and it has been three since you've been intimate.
The pain is brief, fleeting, the pleasure overwhelming. When you've both exhausted yourselves you lay side by side. Your skin sticks to his as the sweat you both worked up begins to dry, and you look over and into his face. You are amazed, as always, that someone like him could fall for someone like you.
A/N: I apologize for the lack of length here, and hope you will all forgive me. As always, I also hope you enjoyed it.