Language of Flowers
Hermione came home after a rough day, her feet tired and her back aching — no doubt because of her pregnancy. She was eight months into her fifth pregnancy, and it had been the most challenging overall. Luckily, the third trimester had been the easiest of the entire pregnancy. It had been a relief to hit that mark, and now there was less than a month left until another Potter baby would arrive.
Throwing off her clothes as soon as she reached the master bedroom, she started the tap, getting a bubble bath ready. She was in need of some relaxation and with the kids not home for a few more hours, it was the perfect time to bask in solitude. Placing her hair in a clip on top of her head, she climbed into the warm bath water, groaning as the water rushed over her skin.
She laid there with her eyes shut, her hands perched on her large belly. She must have drifted off to sleep because she awoke when a knock sounded at the door.
"Yes?"
"It's me. Can I come in?"
"Of course." Hermione stood up and grabbed a towel, beginning to dry off her body.
"Hey, you," Harry said, walking in and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It's almost time for dinner."
"What? What time is it?"
"Almost six. Why?"
"Oh my gosh, I thought I just dozed off long enough for the water to go cold. I've been in here for hours. No wonder I'm all shrivelled up."
Harry laughed. "Still beautiful. Anyway, I thought I would have the kids eat early so that we could have dinner together. Mimsy is watching after them now."
"Perfect. I'll be down in a moment after I throw on some joggers."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Just joggers?"
Hermione threw the towel on top of her husband's head and walked out of the bathroom, attempting to ignore his silly antics. If the kids weren't home, she would consider his offer of going topless. Her breasts were becoming sore and achy, and she really hated confining them in a t-shirt.
Several moments later, Hermione waddled down to the kitchen, decently dressed despite Harry wishing otherwise. She gasped walking into the kitchen, a large vase filled with flowers sitting on the counter. Knowing Harry, each colour and flower represented something very specific whether that be love, admiration, or some other off the wall sentient. She knew most of them, but at the moment, she was too overcome with emotion to do much more than cry.
"Oh, Harry, they're beautiful."
He waved his wand over the food and walked over, wrapping his arms around her. She looked up at him, her eyes blurry from the tears.
"But why?" She asked.
Harry shrugged. "Can't I just dote on my very loving and very pregnant wife once in a while?"
Hermione laughed as Harry brought his hands up and brushed her tears away with his thumbs. "You can but—"
"—But you always see right through me." He grinned. "Yeah, I know."
"Then, there is a reason?"
"I will always dote on you even if there is not a special occasion, but I thought it would be nice just the two of us especially since the baby will be here in just a few weeks."
Hermione smiled. "You think of everything. Thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful."
"I won't bore you with the meanings of each one. But just know that I love you, more than anything."
Hermione stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, putting every ounce of love she had into the kiss. When she pulled away, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She was his, and he was hers. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.