Rocking Chair

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Story Notes:

Originally Posted: Dec 8, 2006

The rocking chair looks out of place, an antique surrounded by edgy new furnishings. Hermione falls in love with it as soon as she sees it. Instead of seeing worn wood and marks from decades of use, she sees beauty in the clean lines and history in its age. She gives him that look when he starts to point out that it creaks and doesn’t even rock properly, which causes any arguments to be forgotten as he pays the ridiculously high price for the busted old chair.

When they get it back to their tiny flat in Muggle London, the only place they can afford on his salary as an office assistant in a small Muggle company that doesn’t care if he misses a few days a month and her income as an apprentice at Gringotts, Remus waits for instructions on where to put it. He watches her survey the flat as if she’ll suddenly find space somewhere, but he’s rather smug in being proven right about them not having room for a bloody rocking chair, of all things. She glares at him and mutters crossly when he simply smiles, knowing all too well how cute he finds her when she’s in a snit.

Finally, he suggests taking the chair back to the shop for a refund. The money they spent on it could be used for a nice overnight holiday somewhere fun, after all. They both work so hard that it’s rare to get away, after all. He points out that they don’t need a rocking chair and lists the reasons why it would be best to just exchange it, especially when they could be using this time for something far more pleasurable. She doesn’t even crack a smile when he wiggles his eyebrows and leers at her, which makes his smile fade.

She leans against the window and bites her lip, which isn’t a good sign. She’s nervous about something, obviously, and he starts to grow concerned. While he has no idea why she’d come home from work insisting that they go buy a rocking chair, he starts to worry that he’s gone too far in his teasing. He listens when she murmurs something about the chair looking like one she had as a baby and tells him about her parents rocking her to sleep. He doesn’t really understand what that has to do with anything considering she’s now twenty-eight and has never shown any particular signs of nostalgia for her childhood. Then she looks at him and lightly caresses the swell of her belly while smiling shyly.

He blinks at her and shifts in place. His mouth is suddenly dry and there’s a roaring in his ears that he can’t blame on old age, even if he is nearly fifty and fully aware of every ache and pain of getting older. She looks scared, more frightened than he’s ever seen and that includes during a war, and he realizes that he’s still staring at her in shocked disbelief. He arches a brow and tilts his head slightly, and she nods slowly while biting her lip.

Before she can say anything, he pulls her across the tiny flat and into his arms. He kisses her and falls back into the rickety rocking chair with her on his lap. She scolds him even while laughing and tries to push his hands away when he raises her shirt to stare at her belly. He smiles at her attempts and lowers his head, brushing kisses over her belly and whispering hello to their child. He looks up and smiles wickedly. It’s time to christen their new chair.