I'm not sure if I'm very happy with how this turned out. It was just a spur of the moment fluffiness written to cheer me up.
She's so pretty when she sleeps. Nowadays, that's pretty much the only time she's pretty – but don't tell her I said that. The rest of the time she is a crazy, hormonal, pregnant woman. But she's still beautiful and I love her.
Except when she's screaming at me because her hormones are out of whack. Then sometimes I think I will never have sex with her again if there is a chance she could end up pregnant again.
She rolls to her other side, now facing me, and her tummy sort of pokes me. But that's okay, because that's my baby in there, my son. His name is going to be Leo Orion, we decided. Some of the constellations aren't as weird as Scorpius or Draco, fortunately.
"Scorp?" she asks sleepily.
"Yeah?"
"You okay?"
I smile – this woman has got a radar for my moods, I swear.
"Just thinking."
"About…" She's fighting to keep her eyes open. Being pregnant is way more exhausting for her than anyone let on.
"You. And the baby. And how insanely lucky I am, and how much I love the both of you."
She smiles, and scoots as close to me as she can with a six and a half month belly in between us. We're both drifting off to sleep when she gasps, and her eyes shoot open.
"What? What is it? Are you okay? Is he? What happened?"
Rose smiles radiantly, the same smile she had when she agreed to marry me and when she said 'I do'. She reaches over and grabs my right arm, tugging it over to her stomach. She lays the palm flat against the side, and then waits silently.
Something kicks my hand. My eyes widen, and hers do to. She's practically glowing – for once really glowing, not that glow that people say pregnant women have but is really sweat or something.
"Wow." That's really all I can say. She simply smiles and wraps her arm around my waist before falling back asleep. I follow suit after staring at her for a few more minutes.
The next evening, when I get home from work at the Ministry, things are not so peaceful. She's in the kitchen cooking, as well as slamming pots and pans around. I greet her with a kiss on the cheek – she greets me with a "Hmph" and slams a few more things.
"Rose?"
"What?" she snaps.
"Is…everything okay?"
"Everything – is – fine." She accents everything with a slam of either a pot, a pan, or a cabinet door. I'm telling you, my wife is one scary woman when she's pregnant.
"Really? It doesn't seem like it." I say tentatively.
She bursts into tears, and sits down on a chair in the dining room, just sobbing. Her mood swings have always had me at a loss, but I do my best to comfort her when I can. I kneel down next to her and rub her back slowly.
"Rose? What is it?"
She calms down enough to look up at me with red eyes. She's still absolutely gorgeous to me, but she'll never believe me when I tell her. She always insists she's too fat, too sweaty, her hair looks a mess, she doesn't have make-up on, but she's just beautiful to me no matter what.
She hiccups. "I was r-reading this article in W-Witch Weekly, and th-they said that s-some Muggle doctors h-have this th-theory that romantic l-love only lasts th-three years, and they think it c-could b-be t-true." She starts crying again, but I can tell she's trying to hold it back. I go to the kitchen and pour her a glass of water before returning to the dining room and handing it to her. She takes a sip and it seems to help.
"Okay, could you explain that again, please?"
Rose takes another sip of the water and a deep breath.
"I was reading Witch Weekly this morning after you left," she begins, and I nod, still rubbing her back. "And there was an article discussing a theory that has been proposed by some Muggle doctors. They say it's chemically impossible for people to be in love for longer than three years, and the people at Witch Weekly agree, and so do some Healers."
"And this upset you?" See, I told you – I'm bad at this 'comforting husband/father' thing. I'm not very sensitive, and I don't understand most of the things that upset Rose.
Her eyes fill with tears, but she brushes them away – she's been trying to control her hormones and her emotions for the past six and a half months, and it hasn't really been working very well.
"Well, it just made me think – we've been together for almost three years now. What if they're right? What if love only lasts three years?"
I couldn't help it – I laugh a little, and Rose fixes me with one of those scary pregnant lady glares. Again, I'm not really good at the whole 'comforting husband' thing, and Rose knows this.
"I'm sorry," I say through some of the laughter, "it's just…that's ridiculous!"
She glares even harder, except now there are tears in her eyes, and she stands and stomps back to the kitchen. I can hear her banging more things around, and I feel bad that I've upset her, but I can't seem to stop laughing. That really is the most ridiculous thing I've heard!
Finally I calm down and head into the kitchen where Rose is standing over a pot of boiling water than turns out to have chicken in it. I can see a tear roll down her face, and I reach out and wipe it off before wrapping my arms around her as best I can.
"Rose?" I ask tentatively.
"What?"
"I'm sorry I laughed."
"It's okay."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure," she snaps. I rub her back a little until she calms down. She sighs.
"Why did that seem so ridiculous to you? I mean, aren't you afraid that eventually we won't love each other anymore, and we'll just be one of those couples with 'devotion' and 'respect'?"
I think for a moment before answering, and she turns all the way to face me, my hands sliding to her hips.
"Those aren't necessarily bad things to have, Rose. But am I worried that one day we won't love each other anymore? No, absolutely not. Well, sometimes I might worry about you loving me and wanting to keep putting up with me being a horrible husband, but I don't ever have to think about being in love with you. And the reason I found that ridiculous, and somewhat funny that you would worry about it, is that I've been in love with you since fifth year. That's what? Four and a half, almost five years? I don't think you need to worry that on our third anniversary I'm going to wake up and not be in love with you anymore."
Rose looks really relieved, which makes me want to laugh again almost. She knows how long I've loved her, and if she thinks I'm not still in love with her, then the pregnancy is messing with her more than I originally thought.
"Good," she says, and reaches up to kiss me. She pauses and says, "And you aren't a horrible husband. You're the best a girl could ask for, and you're going to make an amazing father." Then she kisses me.
How could I not be in love with this woman, crazy and hormonal though she may be at times? Her kisses still make my heart race.
Yes, I know, extremely fluffy. I just found out I got a bad grade on my history final (and that's my favorite class ): ) and this was my way of cheering myself up. This will probably be the last thing I write before I leave town (except for the epilogue of Seven Years With James), so enjoy! The poll is still open on my page, and there has been a slight change in that, so go look! and REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Please? I haven't been feeling very loved lately, and this would help!