The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

BABY

"James."

Phoebe says his name for the fourth time, waving her hand in front of his face. Fear and a tiny bit of amusement hang over her mind, her eyes locked onto his face.

Slack jawed, hazel eyes bulging. Silent. He was frozen, for at least a few minutes. She snaps, coughs awkwardly. Nothing.

Phoebe finally sighs and asks gently, "Love, can I get you some tea or something?"

James blinks at her, looking almost confused. He shakes his head, opens and closes his mouth a few times. He finally speaks, asking dazedly, "What did you say?"

"I asked if you wanted—"

"No," He says abruptly. "The uh...before that."

Phoebe looks at him like he's crazy. He feels crazy. He must've misheard. But then she slowly asks, like she's unsure, "Um...I'm pregnant?"

Phoebe let's out a scream of surprise when her chair flings backwards with her still in it, a grunt escaping her as air leaves her lungs and James hovers over her, practically straddling her.

"BABY," He shouts, his glasses askew from the sudden tumble that he'd caused. Phoebe holds her breath, her heartache slowly lessening as a brilliant grin takes over his face.

"A BABY!" James cries, cupping her cheeks and smushing them with his hands, pressing rapid kisses to her pursed lips.

"James," She laughs underneath him, trying to wriggle out of his grip. He holds her tight, his voice growing quiet as he asks, eyebrows raised and eyes wide like he's making sure this isn't some prank, "You...you're pregnant?"

Phoebe nods timidly, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. James suddenly gasps and scrambles to his feet, pulling her and the chair she's still sitting in upright.

"Merlin, Bee I'm so sorry—"

"James, I'm fine," She reassures, her smile growing as he drops to his knees in front of her chair. He scoots as close as he can, her legs stretching to accommodate his muscular torso as he whispers, "You're pregnant. Phoebe, we're going to be parents."

Her heart swells when tears suddenly fill his eyes, shock freezing her in her seat. James rips off his glasses and sets them on the table, rubbing at his eyes to ward the tears away. But they keep coming, flooding his cheeks and his lips. His shoulders shake as he weeps tears of joy, barking out a choked laugh when he sees his wife looking at him with concern.

Phoebe holds his face in her hands, eyes worriedly taking in his tearful face. James rests his chin on her knee, his sobs continuing despite his attempts to stop them. A baby.

A family.

Their family.

It's so easy now, picturing a baby girl with blonde hair and grey eyes, chubby legs and tiny hands. James smiles when Phoebe makes a noise of concern in the back of her throat and swipes his tears away with her thumbs. She hesitates before asking shyly,

"You're...happy. Right?"

James looks up at her with wide eyes, his lips parting in shock. He quickly sits up and grabs her hips, giving her a tentative squeeze as her fingers busy themselves in his messy hair.

"Phoebe," He breathes, his smile fading slightly as he registers the emotion on her face. Fear. She's scared. His thumbs press into the skin just showing below the hem of her sweater and he murmurs, "Of course I'm happy. Are you?"

She hesitates, not sure how to answer. She was happy that he was happy. She'd never seen him look this over joyed, coming as close as possible to their wedding day. But a painful cloud of doubt hangs over her mind. Her mother. Her grandmother. The Veela didn't know how to be a mother any more than she knew how to be a daughter.

"I'm..." She trails off, weighing her words carefully. She didn't want to ruin his excitement, ruin this moment for him. But he wanted to know, he deserved to know.

"Intimidated," She finally says, her mind screaming at her that she would be awful, that she was not meant to continue the chain of broken mothers and their broken children.

James must sense her self doubt, because he looks up at her so lovingly, so confidently. He chuckles slightly, "Phoebe, you're going to be brilliant."

Her throat tightens and she whispers, "You don't know—"

"Yes," He interjects firmly, smiling when her fingers tug at his hair punishingly. "I do know. Because you've learned from your family. You've learned how a child shouldn't be treated. You can do this. I swear it."

Phoebe's heart melts at his words, her face softening from the sour look she knew she had. James had the uncanny ability to make her fears fade faster than a calming potion would. She hesitates, but he spies the way her lips are twitching at the corners. His growing grin is heart stopping, tear inducing wonderfullness that she wishes she could bottle up and keep close for whenever she grew sad.

Her thumbs gently trace the curve of his lips and she laughs quietly when he playfully bites them. She finally sighs and mumbles, "Okay, Potter. We can do this."

"Yeah?" He asks hopefully, happy to see that her fear is fading from her grey eyes. He leans up and catches her lips in a quick kiss, embarrassed by how good it feels to feel her smile. She laughs when he sinks back to his knees, staring up at her with his round eyes. She reaches over and grabs his glasses, gently settling them back on his nose as she replies, "Yeah. But you're going to have to be patient with me. This is...a lot of feelings."

"I know, love," He says warmly. "But I'm gonna be with you every step of the way." His throat grows tight and his voice raspier, "And this baby....Merlin, this baby is going to be perfect."

Phoebe smiles and nods, her brain immediately conjuring an image of a little boy with floppy dark hair and hazel eyes. Her heart wrenches in her chest. It has to be a boy. She could handle a boy. But the thought of being the mother to a girl, a Veela, it nearly sends her into a spiraling panic. She takes a deep breath, pushes the thought away for another day, and whispers,

"I'm about four weeks along."

She rolls her eyes when his smile grows smug. James puffs his chest out and says cheekily, "Blimey, I knew Halloween was too good. Only magic like that can create life."

"James, the quality of sex has nothing to do with procreation. It's the lack of that sodding contraceptive spell," Phoebe chides, biting back a laugh when he scoffs and teases,

"It absolutely has to do with quality. We crushed it that night, Potter."

Phoebe closes her eyes, smiling to herself as she mutters, "You make it sound like we're playing quidditch."

She jumps and her eyes fly open when cold air suddenly hits her abdomen, her brows quirking in confusion. James pulls her sweater over his head, pressing gentle kisses to her abdomen. She nearly cries when she hears his muffled voice,

"Hey, baby. It's me, James...well I guess you'll call me dad. Daddy is reserved for your m—OUCH!"

Phoebe pinches him to cut off his suggestive words, though a laugh escapes her before she can stop it. She can feel his smile against his skin as he continues quietly, "Your mommy is the smartest person in the world. The nicest person in the world. And she makes the best...what are those things you make, love?"

"Crepes," Phoebe answers, her hands gently squeezing his shoulders.

"Ah," James mutters. "She makes the best crepes. Wait till you get to have them. We'll eat them every Sunday morning, you and me and mommy. And probably Sirius and Peter and Remus too. You'll like them...most of the time."

Phoebe laughs and teases gently, "Are you done in there? It doesn't even have ears yet James."

"Shhh!" James cries indignantly, pinching her leg. His head slides out from under her shirt, hair a mess and glasses askew. But he looks happy. Undeniably ecstatic.

Excited.

And a tiny part of her begins to feel excited too.

{{my heart can't take this}}