Molly's Kitchen

One of the many books on pregnancy in the library at home has a chapter on sympathetic pregnancy, which describes the concept of a new father experiencing certain elements of a pregnancy. There is a reference to possible weight gain, to experiencing morning sickness, and even appetite changes. However, in all the reading that she’s done in the seven months since she found out they were having a baby, Hermione can’t recall there being a reference to a new father having mood swings and emotional fits. It’s possible that she missed it, since a sympathetic pregnancy is not something Harry has actually demonstrated in the past, but she thinks she‘d remember something like that.

He’s still extremely fit, so there’s not been any weight gain, whereas she’s carrying around an extra fifty stone, at least. Or, at least, it's really starting to feel that way and the expansion of her waist to the point where she can’t even look down and see her feet is physical evidence of the fact. He never once vomited during her occasional sprint to the toilet at odd hours of the night that contradicted the term ‘morning sickness’. And his appetite for food hasn’t changed, either, because he still eats quite a lot.

Suffice it to say, therefore, that these recent mood changes are perplexing. As her hormones change and her emotions are becoming more unstable, Harry is no longer the quietly supportive husband that he’s been from the start. He’s moody, snaps at their friends, and glares at any man who speaks to her. The latter is ridiculous considering the fact that she resembles a small sea creature already and will only get bigger in the upcoming weeks as it nears the delivery date for their baby.

Not only has his mood started to change, but he’s also extremely randy. That’s something she has really noticed because she, too, feels more sexual, and he's keeping up with her easily. It’s rather silly that her sexual appetite has increased along with her body size, but she can’t deny the truth. It’s not that she hasn’t always enjoyed sex with Harry. She’s liked it a lot, and often, following the first somewhat awkward time.

Books certainly hadn’t prepared her for that, not just the act itself but the feeling of sharing that experience with her best friend and the man she loved was just something she hadn’t been prepared for, nor had Harry. Fortunately, the emotional part had meant more than the fact it hadn’t lasted long and that he’d finished before she even really started. They had just laughed about it and used it as a reason to practice. A lot.

Neither of them has had any desire to stop practicing in the seven years since, although work and busy lives have curtailed the amount of practice they get a week as they get older. Marriage didn’t alter it, though, unlike what some of their friends warned them about. If anything, Harry found her wedding ring arousing, because he often kissed her finger after. Still, not even during the sexual height of their relationship, before work and obligations meant they didn’t have time or energy to shag all over the house whenever they wanted, has Harry been as randy as he is now.

He also hasn’t been as bloody obstinate, which seems to go hand in hand with the lust. While she enjoys the benefits of his desire, she really finds the stubbornness increasingly annoying. If there’s an explanation, then she can accept it, but she can’t recall any of the books mentioning ridiculous jealousy and moodiness being part of a new father’s psyche. At least, not without experiencing other symptoms. And it’s not as if she’s feeling jealous or stubborn. Well, any more than usual.

Harry, however, has not stopped glaring at men all evening. When he starts glaring at the women, too, she knows they need to have a talk before she forgets that they’re surrounded by friends and family and just smacks him. She knows such an outburst could be excused, as she's a walking bucket of hormones, but she prefers to make him stop acting like an ass before other people start to notice.

It’s bad enough that she’s having to waddle around the Burrow with her back and feet hurting and her belly sticking out so much that she’s surprised she can even stand without tilting over now. She doesn’t want him doing something embarrassing that he has to live with for, oh, the rest of his life since Weasleys have long memories and it’s not above any of them, including Ginny, to remember Harry acting like a fool and reminding him of it for years to come.

Still, she doesn’t act at first. Instead, she observes and thinks, trying to figure out if there’s some logical reason to explain Harry’s behavior so she can attempt to help fix it. It’s a good initial distraction from a crowded party with too many people and too much loud talking. Her intention to wait until they get home to address the matter is almost successful. Almost, that is, until Harry comes up behind her and holds her very possessively while she’s speaking to Charlie about upcoming regulations to improve the treatment of dragons, and then proceeds to growl a greeting at a man they’ve both known since they were children, that she finally feels her patience snap.

Fortunately, Charlie just looks amused and wanders away after winking at her, which makes Harry’s grip tighten even more. She doesn’t say anything to him yet because there are people around, and she doesn’t want to make a scene. Instead, she gives him a look before making her way through the crowd and into the kitchen. It’s quiet in here, as Molly is off chatting with the woman Percy brought as his date, likely interrogating the poor thing already, and no one else usually dares to enter Molly’s kitchen for fear of repercussions. Right now, Hermione thinks she’d likely out-glare Molly, so she feels reasonably safe.

When she hears Harry enter the room behind her, she turns and arches a brow, doing her best to look imposing and scary instead of round and ridiculous.

“What?” he asks, shifting back and forth and glaring at her. For a moment, he looks as if he’s sixteen, ready to start ranting, instead of a mature man of twenty-seven.

“What?” she repeats quietly, folding her arms across her chest and resting them on her belly. It has its uses sometimes, and this is one of those times.

“Don’t start, Hermione.”

“Is that an order, Harry?”

“It’s a request.”

“I didn’t hear a please.”

He steps closer and scowls at her. “He wants you.”

“Which he? Sorry if I sound confused, but you’ve been glaring at every man at the party, so I lost track.”

“Charlie.” He spits the name out as he reaches up to push his spectacles back into place. “And others. But mostly him. This time.”

“Harry, I love you, but you’re behaving like a jealous prat. Charlie doesn’t want me. I would go so far as to say that no man out there wants me, especially now.”

“You’re gorgeous. And I’m not a prat.”

“You are, and I’m not.”

He narrows his eyes and stares at her in a way that makes her wonder if anyone would notice if they left early. How this man can make her knickers wet with just an intense look is a question she’s never managed to answer, not that she’s ever tried really hard. Usually, other things are on her mind when she starts to think about it. Like now, when he’s pressing her against Molly Weasley’s cabinets.

“Liar,” he says finally. He reaches up and drags his knuckles along the curve of her much more rounded cheek. “Bloody beautiful, and you know it. They all see it, too. Sniffing around you like a bunch of---”

“They’re our friends,” she interrupts, trying to maintain her glare, which isn‘t easy when he‘s touching her. “Not a bunch of randy schoolboys.”

Harry has the audacity to roll his eyes. “They’re men, Hermione. It doesn’t matter if they’re our friends or not. You’re a woman, so they’re going to look.”

“I’m enormous,” she points out, swatting his shoulder. Regardless of her emotions lately, she hasn’t become a sobbing mess who hates how she looks, for which she’s thankful. She’s practical, so she’s fully aware of how her body is changing and loves that their baby is growing inside her, as silly as that might sound. “While it’s sweet that you seem to think everyone would find huge-Hermione arousing, I have to tell you that you’re the only one who thinks so, Harry.”

“Am not.” He shakes his head and tilts his chin in that infuriatingly stubborn way that drives her crazy. After they have a silent staring contest, he looks away but not for long. She watches him pick up a pan from the counter and transfigure it into a mirror. “Look.”

“At what?” She arches a brow and glances at the mirror now standing by the table before looking towards the door. Someone could come in at any time, and Harry’s standing there wanting her to look at a mirror.

He shakes his head and mutters something she can’t hear before he reaches for her. She frowns at him but steps closer and turns to look at the mirror. It’s a good thing that he made it so big; otherwise, there wouldn’t have been enough room to see herself.

“See?” he asks, obviously thinking she’s somehow acquired the ability to read minds along with swollen ankles and a craving for pumpkin juice.

“I see that my hair’s a mess and you’re too skinny. You’ll eat more cake, Potter, and you’ll enjoy it.”

“Stop that, Hermione. And quit looking at the door. You know you don’t care if someone catches us, so don’t even try to act like you do. I know you too well.” He moves behind her and meets her gaze in the mirror. She watches in the mirror as he raises his hand and touches her face. “You’re gorgeous.”

“I do care, Harry. We’re in Molly’s kitchen,” she reminds him quietly, deciding that it’s best to forget the time they snuck away during Ron’s birthday party to shag in Arthur’s shed because she’d been the one to dare Harry that time.

“Which is what excites you,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone that sends heat to certain areas of her body. “Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes have that lazy ‘shag me now’ look to them. You can’t deny it, since it’s right there for both of us to see. You’ve been flirting with all those men tonight because you know I’m jealous of you right now.”

“I haven’t flirted with anyone,” she tells him honestly. While they do occasionally play games, she isn’t tonight, nor would she ever cross that particular line because it would involve someone else, which she’d never do. Why would she want anyone else when she has Harry? He’s everything she’s ever wanted, even before she knew she wanted it.

He glances down and bites his lip before he nods once. “I know. I just---they look at you, and I know what they’re thinking, what they want, and you just don’t see it, which makes me crazy.”

She sighs and reaches up to brush her fingers through his hair, watching them in the mirror as he rests his palm on her belly. “If you want to leave, we can. I think no one will likely notice.”

“No.” He looks up and again meets her gaze in the mirror. “I want to finish this. Here. Please?”

“Not fair,” she murmurs, watching his eyes even when she feels his hands start to move.

He smiles and lowers his head until his lips brush against her neck. “Who ever said that I play fair, Hermione?” Following his question, he nips at her skin. “Watch yourself. See what I see.”

See what I see.

She looks at the mirror and licks her lips as she watches Harry slowly unbutton her shirt. When he finishes, he spreads the sides open and kisses her neck as he touches her breasts. They’re bigger now, not that they were exceptionally small before, and more sensitive. She bites her lip when he rubs his thumb over her nipple, squeaking softly as he presses against her back. He moves his other hand over the curve of her belly while he teases her nipple through the fabric of her thick bra, which is one of the least sexy pieces of underwear she’s ever owned.

Of course, when Harry’s hand is on her breast, the bra looks sexier than she thought possible. He pushes her bra up and palms her bare breast, squeezing harder as she looks towards the door, excited despite herself that anyone could wander in and find them. It’s the pregnancy; it has to be, because she’s not an exhibitionist nor does she like having someone other than Harry see her this way.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Harry tells her in the same tone he used earlier. She moans before she can stop herself, watching him smile smugly when he raises his head and looks into the mirror. “Have wanted to all night, with you teasing me and all of them trying to touch you, rubbing your belly and staring at your tits.”

This isn’t like Harry, talking in such a way, and it’s adorable that there’s a faint blush on his cheeks even as he talks about doing such a thing with her. She doesn’t need those kinds of words, not when he says that and much more with just an intense look or a touch. The fact he’s talking now, saying such blunt things, means he’s closer to the edge than she has realized. He’s so bloody good at staying in control that it can surprise her when he finally snaps.

He reaches down and pulls up her skirt, fumbling with it as he licks her shoulder and stares in the mirror at them. She’s never considered a mirror to be anything more than a mirror, but he’s showing her tonight that it can be bloody erotic. Just watching them together, seeing his hands touching her in ways she can’t anymore with her large belly blocking her view, and looking at his face as he stares at her is so exciting. When he slides his hand into her knickers, she raises her hand and rests her palm against the mirror to keep from falling. It doesn't move, thankfully, and she's too distracted now to figure out how he's secured it.

“So wet,” he whispers against her ear before he buries his face against her neck. She can feel his glasses scrape against her cheek, but it’s difficult to care when he’s doing that with his fingers. He rocks against her bum, rubbing her as he twists her nipple just enough to make her whimper.

This isn’t a situation where they can take their time and go slow. The risk of getting caught isn’t just her imagination, after all, and she doesn’t want someone to find them, even if the danger is exciting. She pushes back against Harry and rolls her hips slightly, watching his face as raises his head. “Now,” she whispers, moving her hand down to rest on his in her knickers. “I want you, Harry.”

“God, yes,” he mutters, pushing her knickers down before he pulls back and starts fumbling with his trousers. “Bloody button.”

She ducks her head and smiles as she moves her other hand to rest against the mirror. It’s still not moving, so she tentatively rests some of her weight against it to test while he finally gets his trousers unfastened.

“Hold on.” That’s the only warning she has before he leans against her back and starts to push inside her.

“Ow, stop.” She cringes and shifts, spreading her legs further apart. That was definitely not comfortable. “Try again.”

“Are you sure?” He looks over his shoulder towards the door and then moves back into place. She can’t see what he’s doing, but she feels his hand brush against her bare bum before he starts to slide into her again. “Oh, yeah. Feel so good.”

“Harry, this isn’t working,” she says, wiggling away from him. “Can you, uh, get the chair and sit down.” Yes, that should work, she decides. The angle is just strange and it hurts her back to lean forward so far. “Please?”

“What?” He blinks and steps back, looking suddenly awkwardly as he looks around the kitchen with his trousers and pants around his thighs and his erection bobbing out in front of him. “Chair. Right.”

Once he moves the chair, she points to where he needs to put it and waits until he sits before she turns and smiles at him. “Thank you,” she murmurs, kissing him slowly and thoroughly as she reaches down to stroke him. It isn’t very easy to do with her belly in the way, but he’s whining and arching up from the chair, so he doesn’t seem to care. She pulls back and faces the mirror again. “Hold it so I can, uh, well, you know.”

“Ride me?” he asks, laughing softly when she swats behind her trying to hit him. He places a wet kiss on her bare bum cheek and swats her lightly before he holds his cock.

She carefully moves back and straddles him and the chair before she lowers herself. She uses the mirror for support, holding it as she watches him start to penetrate her, feeling him stretching her, and she glances at the door for a moment to make sure it’s still closed. “Oh, Harry,” she sighs as he grips her hips and pulls her down as he raises his hips. It feels so good, and she begins to move up and down, watching her breasts bounce as he kisses her neck and shoulder.

“Do you see now?” Harry looks over her shoulder and watches them in the mirror. His face is flushed, his hair is messier than usual, and he’s breathing heavily as he moves beneath her. She’s on top but she lets him have control, and she can’t look away from his face even when he squeezes her breast. He growls, “Hold your skirt. I want to watch us.”

She shudders when he growls, watching him smile knowingly as she reaches down to hold her skirt above her waist. She drops her gaze and watches him slide into her, surprised that something so, well, ugly is arousing her. He moves his hand between their legs and rubs his thumb against her clit, knowing exactly how to touch her.

“Someone could come in any time, Hermione. Would you like that? To look up and see someone watching you come apart on my cock?” He pants against her neck, too flushed now for her to tell if he’s blushing or aroused. “See Charlie wanking while watching us? He’ll never touch you, never feel you. None of them will.”

“I don’t want them,” she gasps, arching her back as she feels her toes start to curl. “Harry, please.”

“Yeah. It‘s time.“ His voice is breathless, husky as he rubs her clit harder and grips her breast tighter. She can see the muscles in his legs pull taut as he thrusts up from the chair, entering her deeper and faster.

She comes first, looking at the ceiling as her lips part and she whimpers softly, shuddering against him as the pressure snaps. When he whines her name, she blinks and straightens her head, watching him in the mirror as she tangles her fingers in his hair and tugs gently. “For me,” she murmurs, panting as she rolls her hips and tightens around him.

His breath catches before he grunts and arches up into her. She watches his face as he comes then looks down to watch him spill inside her, dripping onto the chair and floor. It takes them a minute or three to calm down, to catch their breath, to kiss gently as he rubs her belly and holds her against him.

When they pull back from the kiss, she remembers where they are and blushes as she looks around. “Oh God, we shouldn’t have---this was so wrong,” she groans, reaching up to cover her face.

“Stop,” he says, kissing her shoulder before he urges her to stand up. “Get dressed and I’ll clean up. We haven’t been gone that long, and, if anyone did notice, they’ll probably think you had to go rest or whatever it is pregnant women do at this stage.”

“It seems that what they do is shag their husbands in inappropriate places while people are right outside.” She performs a cleaning charm but still feels sticky. She also needs to use the toilet. She cleans off the floor while Harry changes the mirror back into a pan and cleans himself up. “I can’t believe we just---”

“We did,” Harry says, smiling smugly as he brushes her hair back from her face. “Now stop worrying. Even if someone figures it out, we’re married, so let them know. I don’t care.”

“Prat,” she mutters, leaning up to kiss him. “No more jealousy tonight. Understood? I want happy Harry for the rest of this party.”

“No promises, ‘specially if they keep staring at you like they were.” He sulks and tugs on a lock of her hair. “Though I don’t think any of them will since you look like you’ve just been thoroughly shagged.”

“Harry!” She rolls her eyes and slaps his shoulder. “Stop being such a man. I don’t want anyone knowing what we’ve just done in Molly’s kitchen. She'd kill us. In a very painful way. So just bite your tongue.”

“You can for me,” he offers, sticking his tongue out at her before he catches her hand before she can hit him again. “No abusing the father of your baby. Now, come on. I really need to use the toilet.”

“So do I,” she admits before she looks at him more closely and frowns in thought. She’s definitely reading through that chapter again this weekend. For now, she follows him out of the kitchen and does her best to look like they’ve not just shagged in the kitchen. And she doesn't think about the really convenient counter in the bathroom. No, not at all.

End