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Chapter 6: Grasping Thorns with Roses
"But he that dare not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose."
–Anne Bronte
"Um, Rose?" Scorpius asks tentatively, opening the door of their flat.
He can never be sure if his pregnant wife is in a good or bad mood because they blur together very easily. She can be screaming one minute and crying the next.
Merlin, he's going to be glad when the baby is born and they don't have to deal with pregnancy anymore.
She is sitting cross-legged on the couch, a now empty box of chocolate cauldrons on the floor.
"Hi," she greets him cheerfully, "Did you have a good day at work?"
He hangs up his coat in the hall and kisses her. "Not any worse than usual. Were you okay at home?"
She waddles over to the kitchen table and sits awkwardly, smiling at him. "You worry too much. It's like you expect me to suddenly go into labor."
"Well, it could happen," Scorpius says defensively, opening the refrigerator. "What do you want for dinner?"
"Is there any pasta?" she asks, "I've been craving for fettuccini all day."
He checks the pantry. "There's spaghetti, but no fettuccini."
"Can you go get some?"
"Rose…"
"Pwease?" She gives him a puppy dog face, somewhat marred by the dark circles under her eyes and her even-more-messy-than-usual hair.
He gives in anyway. "Did you know-"
"Yes, seeing as I'm the genius I am, I probably do know."
"I'm fighting the urge to argue with a pregnant woman," he warns playfully, "but I'm pretty close."
She rolls her eyes.
"As I was saying, did you know that the staff at the convenience store now knows me on a first-name basis?"
"Well, I'll make sure to invite them to family reunions," Rose says drily.
He grins. "I see your sarcasm is still intact."
"And your need to point out the obvious is even more so," she responds without missing a beat. "Your procrastination skills, too."
"Okay, okay, I'm going right now. Anything else besides pasta?"
"Some chocolate would be nice…"
"Yes, your highness." He pulls his coat back on. "Love you."
He expects her to say "you, too", but she doesn't.
Instead, she is standing up, gasping, with one hand on her stomach.
"What is it?" he asks in alarm.
"Say it again," she orders, keeping her hand in place.
"What?"
She glares at him, and he backs away, in case she tries to hex him like she did last week. "Say 'I love you.'"
"I love you," he repeats cautiously.
"He kicked! The baby kicked!" Rose grabs his hands and places them at the base of her swollen belly.
"I love you." And there it is. A small flutter of movement. He feels dizzy.
Rose's bright brown eyes are fixed on him. "That's our little boy."
"I… bloody hell. I don't even know what to say." He is awestruck at this little miracle of life. "I love you. I love you. I love you."
And suddenly, he doesn't care how cranky Rose has been these past few months.
It doesn't matter how many times he's had to Apparate to get food early in the morning.
It's all worth it, standing here on the worn dark brown carpet of their flat with Rose and his future son.