thirty - enamoured

"You alright?"

James is lying on his side, hazel eyes blinking and looking bigger, somehow, without his glasses. He watches her as her chest rises and falls and her eyelids flutter.

Lily lets out a breathy laugh. "I'll be alright."

He hums and clutches at her left hand, the one nearest to him, and kisses her fingers, runs the pad of his thumb over the two rings on her fourth finger. Her other hand rests on her stomach, now less protuberant.

Harry lies at the foot of their bed and begins to gurgle. Both of them tense, waiting for the noise to rocket up into full-blown wails. James sits up, grabs his glasses, and peers into the cot; Harry wriggles his fists against the soft fabric of the blanket he's wrapped in but doesn't, thankfully, open his eyes.

"Sure?" he asks, lying back down and hitting the pillow with a soft thud.

Lily sighs. "Yeah." Moments later, she's giggling, and James has no idea why. "Sorry," she says. "It's just - I really, really need a wee but I can't even get up. It's not funny at all, I don't know why I'm laughing."

"Hormones?" James suggests, and she swats him. "Here," he says, and gets out of bed, walking around to her side. He puts his arms out and smiles at her.

Lily buries her face in the pillow to stifle her giggles, part amused, part mortified. "James, no. You're not fucking carrying me. Merlin."

"Come on," James urges. "I'm not keen on standing here with my arms out like an idiot."

He bends closer to her and tenderly pushes a strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. She turns an inch towards him so he can see one eye.

"Let me carry you to the loo."

And then they're both laughing, laughing, laughing. James is doubled over and Lily's crying into the pillow and they're trying not to wake Harry, not now he's finally gone to sleep, but they have to laugh or -

Sitting with Lily, holding her hand, stroking her hair, it'd hit James earlier. That they were actually going to be parents at twenty years old, they were going to have a baby, and they were going to have a new, other life to take care of and it wouldn't just be the two of them anymore.

(It hit Lily around the first wave of contractions, only she was far less preoccupied by the notion than James. She had other things on her mind.)

She finally relents and reaches out, letting him pick her up. Lily puts her arms around his neck, and before he's taken a step, he kisses her, long and heady. "I love you, Lily Potter," he tells her, "and I'm so proud of you."

"I love you," she says, "and I'm proud of me, too. You had a much easier job than I did." He carries her through to the bathroom; sets her down, helps her get steady. "And please don't be alarmed by the blood, James. I'll clean it up later -"

"I'll do it," he volunteers. "And don't give me that look. Just go for a wee alright?"

She laughs and cups his cheek with her hand, kissing him. "I love you. Did I tell you that?"

"Yes, but you have lots to make up for," he says, walking back into their room. "I don't think I'll ever get over the nasty things you said about me this afternoon."

"I was in labour, sweetheart. It happens."

She can hear James changing their sheets - or, rather, pointing his wand at the clean linen - and wants to cry at the sweetness of the gesture. But instead, she smiles, enamoured, and when he sticks his head around the door frame, a cheeky, lopsided grin on his face, asking if she's done, she smiles even more widely.

He picks her up again, and she starts laughing again. For a fleeting moment they're just a couple of kids in love, and everything is beautiful.

a/n: yes, I did just write 700 words around Lily needing the loo.