A/N: This is sort of a compagnion-fic to a segment of "The weight of words," 'cause I can apparently write several versions of the same thing. I was feeling gloomy today and writing fluffy Romione made it better.I also sort of borrowed an OC from MsBinns's "Australia," I hope she'll forgive me.
I hope you'll enjoy!
53. Sea
Pregnant.
She is pregnant.
Laughter and panic rise up in her chest. They want this, they have been trying for this, yet it had still all been whens and safely distant future.
When they'll have kids, they will move to a bigger house in the country. When they'll have kids, they'll have Friday diners at her parents, and Sunday brunches at his, their children playing with their nieces and nephews. When they'll have kids, their first will be Harry's godchild. They even talked about names. For a boy, the name has been chosen long ago. After they travelled across the world, broken by the war, searching for her family and finding themselves along the way with the help of a then stranger. They still haven't found a girl's name they both like.
Now that the future is here, that this is really happening, she finds herself out of breath, unable to process the new life growing in her womb. Her hand finds her stomach absentmindedly as a small laugh escapes her mouth.
When Ron gets home, she grabs his hand despite his protests about the rain and apparates them to the beach. He's worried about the rain. She is not.
They land on a deserted beach. It's a gloomy, windy and rainy October day. Ron is still complaining about the weather, but she is burning with excitement.
This is a good idea, the best of all ideas.
There's a sense of plenitude in her that she's never had before. The sea always reminded her of their time in Shell Cottage during the war. Despite trying to make new memories since then, she's never been able to fully shake it off. Until today.
When she turns to him, Ron is scrutinizing her, trying to understand what is happening. She holds back a laugh, happiness coursing throughout her whole being. Admiration dances in her eyes as she finds his, piercing blues against calm browns. She is so in love with him.
"I'm pregnant," she whispers, because she suddenly finds it impossible to speak.
She can barely contains herself as she sees understanding washing through him.
"Really?"
She nods, laughs, cries.
He kisses her, she shivers and his skin is all goosebumps. For a minute, she thinks it's because of the rain, but as he deepens the kiss, his fingers brushing the scar of her forearm, she knows it's something else.
