There was a loud crack of thunder, startling Hermione Zabini, the brunette witch looking up from the book she was pretending to read, surprised to see that the sky was dark and stormy. She stood up, moving to the window and looking outside. It looked like a bad storm was approaching, lightening flashing through the sky and another crack of thunder filling the quiet night air.


With a slight frown on her face, she turned away from the window, letting the curtains fall back into place. Walking to the fireplace, she sighed, worry in her eyes. Her husband had left the house earlier, following a really stupid argument, claiming he needed to get some air when what he really meant to say was that he wanted to get away from her. She ran a hand through her chestnut curls, staring at the flames as she thought back over their fight, trying not to dwell on the fact that he was not home when it was about to storm.


They’d gone out to eat after work, a new restaurant in Diagon Alley that he thought she might like. It was Italian, one of her favorites as well as his, and she’d been looking forward to their evening out all week. They hadn’t been out much the last few weeks, preferring to eat at home or occasionally meet friends for a meal. It had been like a date, in a way, and she’d been rather excited since he’d mentioned it on Monday. She rarely left the house these days, having to take a break from her job at the Ministry and spending most her time reading or doing research that didn’t require a lot of effort.


Hermione had worn her prettiest robes, the burgundy that went well with her hair and didn’t make her look like an oversized pumpkin, and she’d put her hair up in a way that he had always found attractive, displaying her neck with a few tendrils hanging loose. Used to, he’d have snogged her and made love to her as soon as he saw her, canceling the reservation and having the house elves prepare something for them to eat in bed. Tonight, however, he had smiled and kissed her and then said they should hurry to make their reservation.


When they’d arrived at the restaurant, he’d flirted with the waitress, some giggly witch that batted her eyelashes and constantly drew attention to her thin waist. Well, Blaise hadn’t really flirted, her husband very charming and flirtatious to her but rather quiet and reserved around others, but he also hadn’t seemed to mind the attention from the pretty young witch. They’d eaten their meal, a delicious lasagna for her with garlic bread that was some of the best she’d ever tried, talking about their days and the latest news from various friends.


He’d never once taken her hand and stared romantically at her over the candlelight nor had he given her the sexy smile he reserved for her that said she was the most beautiful woman in the world and he loved her and cherished her. No, it had been polite conversation and eating, nothing to indicate that it was a date or anything other than dinner. When they’d gotten home, she’d been curt and cranky, ignoring him as she’d gone into the study and started to read. Blaise had followed, clearly confused by her behavior, pestering about what was wrong until she’d finally snapped.


She’d accused him of flirting with their pretty thin waitress and not wanting her anymore and not finding her attractive and a whole lot of other things that had caused his indigo eyes to narrow and his lips to curve into a frown. When she’d finished, he’d taken a few deep breaths before he’d simply said that he needed a walk. He hadn’t even argued back, just walking away and leaving her consumed with insecurities and doubts. Hermione looked out the window when she heard another loud crash of thunder, noticing that it had started to rain.


Merlin, she’d driven him away. He’d probably prefer being caught in the rain to facing her accusations and mood swings and general unpleasantness. She was going stir crazy, being stuck in the house all the time. The Mediwizard said she needed rest, that she should have as little activity as possible, but Hermione was used to being active. It was driving her mad to feel so useless and not be able to do anything except sit around like a big lump and read. She wanted to go out with her gorgeous husband and flirt over a meal, she wanted to run her fingers through his thick black hair and kiss him in the middle of the park, she wanted to see him look at her as if she was the most attractive witch he’d ever seen before slowly making love to her until they were too exhausted to move.


It had been days since he’d touched her sexually, worried about hurting her, content to hold her and touch her and not seeming to mind them not being able to make love. Why didn’t it bother him? It definitely bothered her! She missed having him buried deep inside her, missed having him moving slowly and speeding up as he became consumed with need and desire, missed seeing his face as he came within her. They could touch and taste one another, and that was well and good for a bit, but she missed simply having him inside her and holding her as they lost control.


The lights flickered, pulling her from her thoughts. Hermione crossed the room and found some candles in the drawers of the desk, using her wand to light them and send them throughout the room. It was raining harder now, hitting the window in sheets of water. Her brown eyes were anxious as she again wondered where Blaise was, hoping that he was not out in the storm. She jumped slightly when she heard the front door slam, moving as quickly as a woman in the final stages of pregnancy could move. She entered the hallway, seeing Blaise standing by the door, his clothes soaked and his raven locks curling from being wet.


“Where have you been?!” she demanded as she watched him remove his robe and necktie, tossing the wet garments on the floor.


He looked up at her, his eyes catching hers, “Hermione, you should be resting! You know what the Mediwizard said about stress and overexerting yourself!”


“Blaise,” she started, seeing the concern in his dark blue eyes and feeling the fight leave her. She walked to him, her arms going around him as she whispered, “I was so worried about you. I’m sorry for earlier. I was just being a hysterical twit.”


“No, I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I should have realized that you were unhappy at dinner. Do you know how beautiful you looked with the candlelight on your face? I couldn’t watch you because I wanted to ravish you right there in the middle of the restaurant. I want you so bloody much and I know that we can’t until after the babies are born.”


“You think I’m beautiful?” she looked at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes.


“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Hermione. I’ve thought so since the first time I saw you in the Great Hall during the Welcoming Feast first year and I still think so a dozen years later,” he smiled gently, “I think you’re even more stunning now. You’re radiant and so lovely.” His hand moved to rest on her stomach, his lips curving into a besotted smile, “I must confess that I love seeing you pregnant with my babies. I know that sounds archaic but it’s true.”


“I’m enormous and I haven’t been able to see my feet for weeks and I’ve had these mood swings for months and I’m jealous and cranky and I want to feel you inside me so bloody much,” she confessed as she put her hand on top of his.


“Only a few more weeks,” he said huskily, his eyes catching hers, “maybe they’ll be impatient like their Mum and arrive early.”


“I love you, Blaise,” she leaned up and brushed her lips against his, her hand moving to his wet hair as he deepened the kiss.


“I love you, too,” he whispered after he reluctantly pulled back from the kiss. His eyes narrowed as he said, “Now, Hermione Zabini, I do believe you were instructed to stay off your feet as much as possible so what are you doing out of bed?”


“I was wondering where my husband had gone,” she said prissily, “ speaking of, where did you go?”


“I had to go to the store,” he told her as he brushed a lock of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear and stroking her cheek with his fingers.


“The store? We have a fight and you go to the store?” she glared at him, “Well, that’s just typical of a man!”


“We didn’t have a fight,” he corrected with an indulgent smile, “You had a bit of a pregnancy induced rant and I realized that you were feeling undesirable and unwanted, which couldn’t be further from the truth, so I went to the store.”


“Pregnancy induced rant?” she repeated with an arched brow, “Blaise Zabini, that was just.”


Her words were caught by his lips, the raven-haired wizard kissing her soundly before pulling back and reaching for his robe. He removed something from the pocket and faced her. He showed her a can of Muggle whipping cream and a bottle of chocolate sauce, winking as he said, “I can’t be inside you for a few more weeks, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have you for dessert.”


“You wicked, wicked man,” she sighed lovingly as he came towards her, squealing as he picked her up, “You’re going to hurt yourself, Blaise. I weigh too much for you to be carrying!”


“Hermione,” he looked at her and smiled, “do hush up.” His lips caught any further protests his wife planned to make as he carried her upstairs to their bedroom and proceeded to have three helpings of ’dessert’.

*the end*