Chapter Eighteen

"Minerva, you need rest, you're not exactly twenty anymore!"

The black-haired witch with her piercing green eyes groaned out loud as those well-meant and yet nothing less than irritating words kept on echoing and echoing through her already too full head. Leaning back against the dark-red pillows of the couch in her private sitting room, she mentally counted the seconds ticking away on the cuckoo clock against the wall- a once present from her husband.

Rest. Four letters, merely four of them, and yet much, much more incomprehensible to her than a line like, for example, "Yule Ball preparations". Or "duty". Or "correcting essays".

She could not believe she had really promised her husband to actually take a few hours of rest and to even eat her dinner inside of the secluded, terribly peaceful space that was their shared private rooms. Half an hour had passed and she already hated it.

She appreciated both Albus's and Poppy's worry about her, but honestly, it was not as if she was over a century of age. Witches of one hundred and ten years of age had carried and given birth to healthy kids- so was there any reason to assume that she, their junior with four decades, would not?

Well of course there was, but Minerva did not want to think about that anymore. After the Stunners and her two months of well-deserved rest, Minerva had, of course, started teaching again in September as she had always planned to. She had been four months pregnant by then, and everything had seemed to be alright- until, with six months, during the beginning of November, she had awoken one morning with terrible cramps in her lower stomach- almost as if the child was about to be born. Of course it had been way too early and, as Poppy had told her after the danger had quite left again, it had been a very close run. Apparently the shock of the four Stunners on her body still had some after-effects after all- and very nearly she had lost her child, so shortly after she had gained it.

But even though this had shocked Minerva beyond reason, she still was convinced that it would not happen again. After all she had never felt so much as one cramp again during the previous two months- and more important, her little girl or boy had started kicking- hard. Quite an aggressive little Scot, Albus had jokingly said, and Minerva had merely grinned. He thought it very amusing, of course- for he was not the one whose bowels were being squeezed by their son or daughter, he was not the one people were worrying about all day- he was not the one random pupils and teachers stared at as if she could drop dead every single second.

Now she did not really care about the first thing, of course- at least it gave her the reassurance she had desperately, yet in secret, craved for. But the last two things- well, she simply did not know how to handle them. She was a cat, what could be expected of her? Though cats liked comfort and a good home, they also wanted to be free, to roam the streets on their own and though they liked to be petted, they did not want to be looked after as if they, and not the one inside of them, were an unborn baby!

Another, frustrated sigh escaped her clenched together lips as she heard a student passing her door hum a cheerful Christmas carol. "Angels We Have Heard On High", even- one of her all time favourites. She smiled as she remembered how, during her years at Hogwarts, she had always been the only one able to sing the whole chorus line in one, long breath- as it had to be sung.

It had been her way to prove that she, Minerva, top student, was more than just a piece of walking brains, and she had always loved the Christmas period ever since.

And here she lay now, on the couch, swollen, emerald-clad belly carefully covered by one of her own, tartan blankets. She almost knew the book she was holding by heart, and she had sternly been told not to take up another one, because, and she quoted literally "When you finish that one, you should take a nap, Minerva! Reading is fatiguing too, you know!"

She had rolled her eyes, in the end used them to shoot fire- but it was a fact that her beloved Albus did act rather- cute- when he was fussing over her. Minerva sighed as she sat straight up, corners of her mouth twitching as the son or daughter inside of her showed its kicking abilities once more.

Two more months. Two more months and she would finally, finally be able to hold her little, already adored baby in her arms- two more months and she and Albus would finally be able to proudly present to the world- Albus or Minerva Junior, also known as Their Child.

She faintly smiled at this thought, shaking her head in the process. She had always wondered why people made such a fuss about naming their children- but now she knew, oh how she knew indeed.

Both she and Albus had thought of many names for their future child, of course- but for some reason, it was so terribly hard to already decide upon a name before the actual child was there- before they knew what it looked like, before they could feel it in their arms, before they could look into its eyes. She lightly touched her swollen belly and smiled.

Two months, my child.

Two months.