Yellow (George Weasley)

81 - Hens and Stags

I let my eyes shut once again under his touch, the hot water rinsing the suds from my hair as George took a minute to wash his own. "'M fine." I hummed.

"I don't believe you." He laughed as he reached for the conditioner. He spread it between his hands before running his fingers through the ends of my long hair. "But I'll let it slide for now." The scent of vanilla wafted towards my nose as he slid a loofa over my tired body, only pausing to press a chaste kiss to my lips.

"Thank you, Georgie." I briefly intertwined our fingers as I let the water run over me one last time.

"No problem, darling." He murmured, turning the water off before stepping out. He appeared a moment later with a towel hung low on his hips, another in his hands. He wrapped the fluffy towel around my body as I rung out my wet hair. The tile was cold against my feet and for a moment I debated on staying in the shower for another hour. Before I could change my mind, I followed George out down the hall and into our shared room.

It took me a moment to moisturize my skin and sort through my drawers for a pair of pajama pants and one of George's old shirts. When I turned, George was already in his plaid pajama bottoms, leaning back against the headboard. He flashed me a smile and pat his thigh. I happily obliged, crawling onto the bed and resting my head in his lap. I released a deep breath and let my eyes fall closed as he fanned out my already dry hair—drying charms may be my favorite part about being a witch. "So how are you really feeling?"

"My back hurts." I murmured. The healer had warned me about this at our last appointment. The extra weight pulling me forward is quite a strain, and back pain is pretty common.

"I'm sorry, darling." His fingers ran through my hair.

I hummed as he continued to play with the strands. If he keeps going at this pace I may just fall asleep right here. "Are you braiding my hair?" A smile cracked on my lips.

"Yeah." He chuckled, blushing slightly. "Ginny taught me how when we were young."

I giggled at the admission. "That's sweet. You're going to make a wonderful girl dad."

"Leah, did you find out?" He gasped.

"No!" I laughed as he looked down at me suspiciously. "I just have a hunch."

"Well...I think it's a boy. And I guarantee I'm right." George boasted. I shouldn't be surprised that his competitiveness would even bleed over into predicting the sex of his baby.

"Why are you so sure? I'm the one carrying this thing." I argued back.

"Well, I'm the one who provided the baby gravy to make that thing and the Weasley's produce a whole lot of boys." George smirked.

"Baby gravy?" I laughed. "That's bloody disgusting."

"You've proven to me many times that you don't find it so disgusting." He winked.

I rolled my eyes, watching as his hands traveled over the moderate bump. Just as his right one passed my ribs, I felt a light flutter. George's eyes widened and his mouth fell open. "Leah...I-I think the baby's just kicked." As if to confirm it's daddy's thoughts, the baby kicked his open palm once again.

"Wow." I sat up with a grin. It's quite the weird feeling. George pulled me onto his lap, guiding my hand to where he had just felt the kick. My jaw dropped when I felt the tiny tap. "They're going to be a little football player!"

George looked at me with confusion. "It's a Muggle sport where they kick around a ball." I clarified. "You'd like it."

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