Just a cute little one-shot with pregnant!Tonks and a newly returned (and over-worried) Remus. Enjoy!
Baby Bumps and Worried Lumps
It was a rainy Sunday night, two weeks after his return (from the silly episode that she still hadn't quite forgiven him for), that Tonks caught Remus looking at her in utter, unabashed panic.
Her heart stopped, and she froze, holding her toothbrush in hand.
"Dora..." he whispered, his eyes wide. "Should...should you be using that?"
Clueless, and a little panicked, she looked down at herself, finding nothing amiss; pink flannel pyjamas, slightly rounded stomach peeking out; ten fingers and ten toes, all looking a little peaky against the luminous fabric of her nightwear.
Tonks glanced up, her face searching. "What?" she asked, desperate and still none the wiser.
Wordlessly, Remus walked over to her and took the squishy tube of toothpaste from her fingers, scanning the ingredients on the back with worried, desperate eyes. Tonks gaped, and watched. Every now and then, when he would find an added substance which he evidently disagreed with – or Tonks suspected, simply hadn't heard of – he would frown deeply; suspiciously.
"Come off it, you think I can't use toothpaste because I'm pregnant. Give me a break, Remus."
Remus sighed, and handed her the tube, still eyeing it suspiciously. "I just...don't want to risk anything."
"I think," Tonks spoke slowly; clearly, "that if toothpaste harmed unborn babies, we would have heard about it, don't you? Bloody hell, Remus, you were all too ready to make me a single mother a few weeks ago, now you want me to go without brushing my teeth? What's the worst that can happen; the baby comes out minty fresh?"
"There are a lot of harsh ingredients in there," Remus told her calmly, his voice a little shaky as he watched her squirt a liberal amount onto the brush and start cleaning her teeth.
"All of which get spat down the sink," she said, continuing her toothbrush scrubbing, her voice a little muffled by the foamy lather. "Really, Remus, you didn't think this through. You can assume that everything in the world is a threat to the baby. Is this new-fatherhood syndrome or something? Maybe I'll hand you in to Maternal Witch Weekly so they can study you as a rare breed of manhood..."
"I only have your best interests at heart," Remus told her defensively, his eyebrows raised. "And our child's. I just...want everything to be okay for you. Normal."
"Oh you're not normal, Remus," Tonks said, quickly swinging back around into their conjoined bathroom to empty her mouth of the strong minty toothpaste. "I'm positive you're supposed to be putting your feet up, reading to your heart's content and pondering how and pondering how hard it is to be a father."
"You seem to be mistaking me for a middle aged, insensitive git, Dora," Remus replied, an eyebrow lifted sardonically.
"Hmm, you're right; you're a middle aged oversensitive git instead," Tonks retorted cheerfully. "Honestly –'toothpaste could harm the baby'? I've never heard anything like it in all my life."
When she came out of the bathroom, her mouth fresh and ready for bed, she found him perched a little awkwardly at the bottom of the mattress, twisting his fingers nervously and staring at the floor. He looked like a man utterly lost in the sea of hormones, swollen bellies and nursery rhymes, and her heart melted for him; her lovely, wonderful, caring husband.
Who was a complete git for leaving her in the first place.
But still, he had come back.
Something had clicked inside him, and he had gone from not wanting to acknowledge the baby's existence, to wanting to protect both her and the child from unseen, irrational dangers which, in his head, obviously made perfect sense.
She sighed and wrapped her arms around him, leaning over her tummy bump a little to press a firm kiss against his soft, warm lips.
"It's alright, love," she murmured. "We've got this covered."
Three days later, she caught him surreptitiously running cautious hands over her stomach, as though trying to reassure himself that the baby hadn't gone AWOL. His thumb pressed into what felt like a tiny little knee against her innermost stomach, and she groaned a little as the pressure pushed unpleasantly on her bladder, the urge to pee strong and overwhelming.
Tonks brushed his hand away and tried to let sleep reclaim her, but Remus seemed to have taken the noise born of frustration as a cry of pain, and his worried face swam just in her line of vision, his hand at her should; shaking her awake.
"I'm going to murder you," Tonks growled, sounding every inch the pissed off Auror. She spied her wand sitting on the bedside table, and wondered if she could blame a well-aimed hex on her raging, uncontrollable hormones.
"Where does it hurt?" he asked, his voice pinched, his skin drained of colour.
"It doesn't bloody hurt! Or at least it didn't, until you started poking around. Really, Remus, didn't I tell you to relax? If anything's wrong with the baby, I'll know about it before you will. Now go back to sleep."
He settled – a little stiffly – against her back, his hand still resting lightly against the swell of her breast. Tonks grumbled a little and moved his hand firmly over her breast. It lingered there for a few moments, before – inevitably – it shifted back down over her stomach. Tonks sighed; he really must have been worried.
Her stomach gurgled a little – mostly out of hunger – and she felt him sit bolt-upright in their bed, once again leaning over her.
"One more word, Remus, and I swear..."
He paused for a moment, before climbing out of bed. "I'm going to make you some food; any preferences?"
Tonks hummed in appreciation and snuggled down into the quilt, the baby finally sitting comfortably within her. "I could murder a stack of pancakes with honey...oh, and a pickled onion? Best husband ever."
She heard him stop by the door. "Do you not think that you should have something a little plainer just in case the baby-?"
He had to interrupt himself briefly to dodge the pillow she had thrown at his head.
Oh, she had known there would be a catch. It had all been going so well; she had kissed him after dinner, running her hands over his shoulders in that way he liked, and his moans had urged her on, until she was leading him into the bedroom, with his lips at her neck.
But looking at him, she wouldn't have guessed that that was how they had started the evening, as he stared at her with a mixture of fear and apprehension. Anyone would have thought she'd just asked him to dive into a pit of Death Eaters stark bollock naked, rather than asking him to make love to her.
Tonks had never seen a more conflicted man in her entire life.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes darting back and forth rapidly as though he were looking for an escape route to materialise so that he could make a hasty retreat from the situation all together. Bloody hell; he hardly looked like a man whose wife had just asked him to shag her brains out.
"Is that..." Remus cleared his throat, his voice hoarse and pinched, "Is that safe, Dora? Your bump is fairly big now..."
"Of course it's bloody safe," she said, and pressed little kisses over his cheekbone. "Pregnant women have sex all the time."
"It's just; I wouldn't want to risk hurting you or the baby..."
"Oh, Merlin, not this again," Tonks sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you? Short of weight lifting and drinking tea – which isn't helping the overwhelming desire to scream at you – I can do things normally. Plus..."
She nibbled lightly of his ear, and felt him draw in a sharp breath. "I've never wanted you more in my entire life..." she finished, in a last, desperate attempt to lure him into bed.
He gave a light, shaky cough. "Really?" he asked.
"Hmm," she confirmed, and climbed into his lap, a little awkwardly with her bump.
He grinned up at her, his face relaxing a little. This time, when his hands settled on her bump, he wasn't worried or anxious; he was simply appreciating her, carrying his child. Tonks rubbed her nose up against his affectionately. She had always known that he held some deep anxiety, but she had never seen it take such a hold on him before. She wondered briefly if it would become even more pronounced with the arrival of the baby, but pushed all post-labour thoughts to the back of her mind as his lips caught as hold of hers, and his hands – finally – moved from her stomach to cover the newly swollen softness of her breasts.
He would be fine, she thought; her Remus.
Tonks' last cries of labour rang through the small room in St. Mungos, and gave way to giggles of joy and euphoria as the pressure in her stomach suddenly gave way, and there he was; her baby. Covered in goo, and looking every inch the adorable blood stained mess. His own little cries joined her sobs of relief, and the young, blonde Healer wrapped him in a blanket for her.
Suddenly aware of Remus' hand still gripped tightly in her own, she looked up into his handsome face, blurred by the salty taste of tears. He was crying too; tears of joy, because as they had wrapped the baby up, they had seen a little flash of blue hair, then blonde, then blue again.
He was his Mother's son.
"Oh, Remus," she laughed, and he joined her, pressing a swift kiss against her sweaty temple.
When they handed Tonks the baby, her first instinct was to check him over; make sure everything was alright.
"Should he be moving around more?" she asked instantly, her eyes urgent and seeking reassurance as the tiny baby lay still and restful against her breast.
The Healer chuckled. "He's very tired; he's had a busy day; you both have," she soothed, smoothing Tonks' hair back from her head.
"But...he should be crying, shouldn't he?" Tonks panicked. "I mean, he's just sleeping. Isn't he hungry?"
"Love," Remus said softly, and she turned to find his bright eyes gentle with warm amusement. "Stop worrying; he's fine. He's perfect."
As they spoke, the tiny baby opened its wide blue eyes just a little, staring up at its parents. His little eyelids were crusty, and his skin was bright pink and he looked like a little alien. But oh, he was so perfect. He gave a small, adorable yawn and settled back down against his mother, and Tonks thought he was going to drift back into sleep, but he gave a loud, shrill cry.
Tonks nearly jumped out of her skin, looking urgently at the Healer.
"Ah, someone wants to be cleaned up, I think," the Healer said fondly. "May I?"
Before Tonks could protest, the baby had been plucked from her arms and the Healer was carrying the baby away and...
...out of the doors?
"Hang on just a minute," Tonks said angrily to the flapping, empty doorway. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Dora, she's just going to clean him up..."
"Don't defend her Remus," Tonks shrugged him off, and – much to Remus' horror – got up out of the hospital bed. "Oi, you! Where are you going with my son? Remus, what if she drops him?"
"Dora, come back!"
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