A/N: I'm home! My parents and I went camping over the weekend and, while I loved relaxing with them and with some of Dad's relatives, it's wonderful to be back again.

"You're home late," he observed as she walked through the front door, looking weary and timeworn. Sighing, she dropped her handbag onto the counter and made her way over to the kitchen, where she immediately started brewing tea the Muggle way. "Tough day?"

"Yeah. St Mungo's owled to let me know they had a cancellation, so I headed there straight after work. They looked into the menstrual pain."

"Are you okay? Is it serious?"

"Yes… and yes. Yes to both." She knew she should tell him more, wanted to tell him more, but she didn't feel like speaking. It was as if she simply had to stay silent, as if forming sounds and words was an effort too great for her to bear.

The hairs on the back of her neck tingled as she felt James' presence behind her. His breath tickled the nape of her neck, his hands resting securely on her waist in a comforting grip. "But you're okay."

"I think so. I don't know. From what they said, I will be. It's manageable. It's just…" Twisting around, she burrowed into his arms, burying her face into his neck. "I have endometriosis," she whispered against his warm skin.

His arms tightened, and she knew him well enough to know what he was thinking. The fact that it had a fancy name made it seem all the worse. It was one thing to say she had severe menstrual pain; it felt like another thing entirely to say she had a specific condition. "I'm afraid you're going to tell me what that means," he said, fear and concern obvious in his voice.

"It means a lot of things. But one of them," she said slowly, "is that I'm not able to fall pregnant."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Are they sure?"

"They are. Most women with it can still conceive and carry to term, but they said…" She sighed. "That's obviously not the case for me."

He held her tighter against him. "And what are you thinking?"

"That it's alright because I've never had a particular desire to be a mother, so I won't be missing out on something important to me. That it's not alright because I would have liked to be able to make the choice for myself. That I can always adopt it if motherhood ever becomes something I need. That we haven't talked about kids before, so I don't know if it's a major thing for you. That it could be a deal breaker for you. That I would understand. That I would hate it. That – "

"Shh," he cut her off, rubbing his hand in slow, soothing circles across her back. Her breathing had picked up during the course of her confession, but it gradually stabilised again. When she appeared to have calmed down once more, he said, "I've always wanted kids, but they're not something I need. I need you. Now, after all we've been through, I wouldn't want kids with anyone else. It's with you or with no one. So, if that can't happen for us, that's fine with me. I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you," he echoed. "I'm here."

"And we'll get through this," she said, needing to hear the words. "It'll be okay."

"And we'll get through this," he agreed. "Together."