OK, OK. Here's another chapter in the style of Chapters 2 and 13. But it felt right for this particular atmosphere.
Snug
James Potter looked up and saw only one thing: Lily Potter, small hands gracing her rounded stomach every now and then, was sighing.
Her uncoordinated stockinged feet were draped lazily over the arm of the couch, and one yellow sock threatened to leave its home in rebellion.
James Potter noticed everything about her – the way she kept shifting her position, the way her red hair kept tickling her freckled nose... she was perfect.
Lily Potter, having shifted for the last frustrating time, let out an over dramatic groan. "James!"
And James Potter, having completed this exchange at least two dozen times, removed himself from the hearth and, sighing, he reacquainted himself with the couch.
Taking Lily Potter in his arms, he took the liberty of weaving his fingers with hers over her stomach.
And Lily Potter, having finally found a comfortable position, sighed once more with her husband.
The next one might be about a broken limb. Because I had just finished taking someone's senior pictures yesterday... and I promptly fell down a hill and bent my toes all the way back on one foot. And you know what? I'm going to attempt humor!