The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Sweaters

{{kind of filler. Hopefully you enjoy!}}

Phoebe stands in the bathroom, eyeing her reflection.

She purses her lips, muttering to herself, "It's fine. You are fine."

Her voice, any voice of reason, can't penetrate the cloud of doubt hanging over her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fight the impulse that she's had for a few days. Irrationality wins.

She turns to the side, eyes flying open to study her profile. She instantly zeros in on her stomach, her hands shaking as they move to touch. A bump. Practically overnight, she had changed. And while she wanted to be celebrating, wanted to be elated that her baby was growing, she was too caught up in being distraught that she was growing too.

Her fingers dimple the skin below her bellybutton. She couldn't push in, her belly was taut. A gentle slope that hinted at the magical life beneath the surface. It wasn't a big bump, but it was a bump nonetheless. Phoebe sighs and hesitates before resting her palms flat against her skin. She runs her hands over the growing shape, nose crinkling slightly, but then her eyes grow soft. A baby. James' baby.

She cringes at her foolishness, tearing her hands away from her stomach like she's been burned. She reaches up to pull her shirt down, stopping short when the door swings open.

"Phoebe, we were meant to leave thirty—"

James pauses, blinking at the reflecting of his wife. His eyes grow round and emotional, immediately tracing the curve of her stomach. But then he senses her awkwardness, her sadness. James smiles and crosses over to her, looking at her eyes in the mirror for permission. Permission for what he wants. Phoebe swallows, nodding once. She jumps again when his large hands suddenly reach around her and press where her own had been moments before.

James grins slightly and rests his chin on the top of her head, saying quietly, "Look at you. You're glowing."

Phoebe smiles weakly, her shoulders slumping as his palms warm her cold skin. She sighs, already feeling like a terrible mother. Worrying about how she looked. She tears her eyes away from herself and looks at James, replying, "Sorry, I know we're running late."

James shakes his head and says warmly, "That's okay. We've got plenty of time."

Phoebe nods, looking back down at where his hands spread across the expanse of her growing belly. She smiles slightly when he presses a kiss to her jaw, mumbling, "You're beautiful."

"You have to say that," Phoebe laughs, reaching to pull her shirt down. James let's out a noise of disapproval, keeping his hands in place. His heart hurts for her. Hurts that when she looks in the mirror she can still hear her mother and grandmother saying terrible things about her. And she loves them anyway. She still loves them, and that had to hurt most of all.

James smirks and says lowly, "Want to stay here? I'll fuck you up against this sink again."

"James!" Phoebe gasps in horror, her lips pulling into a grin despite herself. His laugh chases away her doubt, even more so when he says happily, "I can't help it. My wife is sexy as hell."

Phoebe smiles ruefully, turning in his arms and pressing a kiss to his cheek. She slides her hands down to join his, resting them against her stomach. James hesitates before admitting, "I'm glad you're showing. It makes it real, love."

"Maybe that's why I'm scared," She confesses in turn, leaning her forehead against his chest. He smiles gently and kisses the top of her head, saying firmly, "I'm scared too. But I'm also excited. I think you look cute, and you know I'd say that even if you turned into a harpy."