“Bloody hell!”


Oliver frantically searched the organized desk, cursing as he failed to find the one item he was seeking. He found copies of all the bills for the year, organized and color coded with “paid” written across the top in handwriting far neater than his own. He found several colors of ink wells and a variety of new quills alongside three quills that were currently being used, their tips stained black, blue, and red. He found a date book with the same concise handwriting indicating various birthdays, anniversaries, and his Quidditch practices and games. He found a dozen other meaningless items that were not the one item he had to find immediately.


“Oliver.”


“Just a minute,” he called over his shoulder, his large hands searching through the drawers of the desk, lifting papers, cursing the entire time. The desk was a mess within moments and he still hadn’t found them. Fingers ran through his dark brown hair as his eyes again looked over the desk top and open drawers. Moving from the desk, he headed towards the antique cabinet that held numerous items, thinking maybe he had mistakenly laid them on one of the shelves instead of placing them back on the desk.


“Ollie.”


“I’m trying to find them, Hermione!” he snapped as he began ransacking the cabinet and bookcase, feeling like a complete fool for misplacing them. He’d been so careful, always putting them in the little drawer of the desk after using them, knowing that he would be nervous and frantic when the time came that he actually *had* to use them. Now, here it was, a time he should be calm and collected and he was hysterically trying to find them and feeling more nervous than any Quidditch match he’d played in the last twenty years.


“Oliver!”


“What?” he exclaimed as he stopped his search to look at his wife, his scowl fading as he saw the slight smirk on her lips and the ring of keys dangling from her finger.


“Looking for these?” she arched a brow, her lips curving into that cute smile that never failed to arouse him.


“Where were they?” he asked as he moved to her, his lips brushing hers as he took the keys from. He couldn’t believe she was so composed, his heart racing a million times a minute and honestly feeling more tense than during the final moments of a match.


“The dresser in the bedroom,” she replied, her eyes shining with happiness as she moved her hand over her stomach, “you put them there after our drive to the country last weekend.”


“Merlin, I completely forgot!” he smiled sheepishly as she brushed his hair away from his eyes.


“Oliver, I think we need to go now.”


“Is everything okay?” he asked worriedly, his hand moving to rest on her back as his other took the small suitcase from her. She had been unable to apparate for the last six weeks and traveling by floo was a bit risky as was using a port key, so he was thankful they had Muggle transportation but now he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to drive to the hospital because he was panicky and flustered. And she stood there looking beautiful and serene with a loving smile on her lips. Merlin, how did he get so lucky to have someone as amazing as Hermione fall in love with him?


“I love you, too,” she smiled tenderly as she saw the look in his eyes and the smile on his face, knowing him well enough after four years to recognize the besotted and adoring expression that never failed to make her feel cherished and loved. She squeezed his hand. “Oliver, we have to go right now!”


“Okay,” he started to walk towards the door, hearing her soft gasp and looking at her with wide eyes, “What’s wrong?”


“Nothing’s wrong,” she reassured him, pushing him out of their flat as she added, “my water just broke.”


The End.