VII. Blue

VII. Blue

“Of all nature’s gifts to the human race, what is sweeter to a man than his children?” – Marcus Tullius Cicero

She was going to kill Scorpius. Rose wondered if it were too late to learn the Killing Curse, but then as another pain ripped through her, she decided that perhaps Crucio would be far more fitting. Torture, that’s right, torture…

“Going to Crucio you as soon as I have my wand back,” she panted as she gripped her husband’s hands as hard as she could. From the tightness around his mouth as she glanced up at him, she could tell that it did hurt him. She felt a little bad, actually, and as the pain faded for a moment she loosened her grip.

“I know, Rosie,” Scorpius soothed her, placing a kiss at her brow and pressing his cheek against hers. “That’s why wands aren’t allowed in the birthing rooms.” Rose could hear the silent Thank Merlin, but she didn’t call him on it. She’d understood the logic of the no wands rule up until the moment she’d gone into labor, and now all logic was out the window.

Another contraction tensed her body and she tried to keep the moan back behind her teeth. Her back arched, shoulder blades cutting back and pressing against Scorpius’ chest. He held her firmly but gently as he supported her on the bed. As this contraction faded, he released one of her hands to rub a soothing circle on her very rounded belly. The corners of his mouth turned up as his child kicked, hard, hitting the center of his hand precisely.

“Ow,” Rose said, then louder as the muscles hardened in another contraction, “ow ow OW!” Her voice crescendoed in time with the contraction, holding at a high, painful pitch before trailing off in a slur of whimpers.

“Can she not have anything to help with the pain yet?” Scorpius asked, brushing her damp hair off her equally damp face.

“Not yet,” the green robed Healer replied, and Rose groaned.

“How much longer?” She ground out the question through gritted teeth and felt Scorpius hide his smile against the back of her neck. She would be amused by his amusement if she weren’t about ready to strangle someone to get a painkiller.

There must have been a glint to her eye or perhaps sparks at the tips of her red hair, because the Healer swallowed and said, “Soon, soon,” in as reassuring a way as possible before fleeing.

“You scared him, luv,” Scorpius murmured in her ear, chuckling quietly. She ground her teeth briefly before stuttering out a laugh; her husband had a charming chuckle and she could admit, if only to herself, that she might be taking things just a mite too seriously.

Of course, as soon as the next contraction hit, her laugh died a choking death and things felt even more serious than before. She was about ready to throw a fit when the Healer came in with another man, also a Healer but older than the other one, and a vial of pale lavender liquid. The olderHealer briefly examined her before opening the vial and holding it to her lips to drink.

“It’s time,” he told her. Rose smiled as the potion took effect, and then she began to push in earnest.

***

Rose lay on the bed, more exhausted now than she could ever remember being in the past. The little bundle in her arms, however, had been more than worth it, though she was still half tempted to hex that jumpy little Healer if he came in to check on her one more time.

She found herself dozing on and off, but a charm had made certain that even if her arms relaxed, she wouldn’t drop Cassie—not that she would have anyway, but caution was always warranted.

She was woken by a warmth at her side and a velvety sensation on her face, down her neck, then back up again. A familiar dusky scent filled her nostrils, and she was already smiling as she stirred, arms tightening gently around her daughter’s small form.

“Scorpius,” she murmured his name as her eyelids fluttered and opened. Her husband was smiling down at her with a gentleness that took her breath away; the rest of the world might think him remote still, but never her, and never anyone he loved.

“My love,” he replied quietly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Loves,” he corrected himself, reaching out to gently caress his daughter’s cheek with one long finger, as if afraid a firmer touch would harm her. He replaced his finger with the rose he held, the petals soft on the equally soft-cheeked baby.

The rose was blue, vibrant and almost unnatural, but she instinctively knew it wasn’t charmed. It had been a couple of years since she had received a special rose like this, though those years hadn’t lacked in love or gifts of roses, just the special ones that seemed to mark the highest points of their relationship.

Blue meant mystical, magical. Looking at Cassiopeia, she felt those feelings keenly, and knew Scorpius did as well.

Scorpius brought the flower to his lips, pressing a kiss onto the petals and then brushed them against hers, letting her take possession of it. A note dangled at the end.

To the woman who has always brought joy and wonder into my life, who has given me yet anotherbeautiful, precious treasure. You fill me with such happiness, both you and my daughter.

“You’re daddy is the sweetest man in the world,” Rose whispered into her daughter’s feather soft hair.