𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐒.
⊰•*⭑☽ ͏
One of them, an amateur artist, is at her wit's end and often wonders what new thing will take place each year. After all...
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July 27, 1980
The Black - Scamander Residence
She yearned for him profoundly when she awoke up and saw that he wasn't sleeping next to her. Or it was more like she had awoken because her beloved wasn't resting next to her. The comfortable mattress was dipped slightly from where his body once rested upon it, dent clear as day, but the place was pretty much deserted. Artemis stirred from her rare and much needed, deep and peaceful slumber. The space beside her on the white mattress completely void of any shred of warmth. Instead, an ice shadow, a blanket of coldness taking over it as her warm hand reached out to smooth over it. Her lips curved downward in disappointment as her hazel doe eyes peered around the dimly lit bedroom. She turned to the window seeing that the visible white shining dots were still gleaming onto the carpet of midnight hues of blues that covered the entire sky.
It was still well into the night.
Her brows furrowed as her eyes turned toward the door that was left ajar, golden light illuminating from the crack, she slowly heaved herself up, a hand quickly coming up to rest atop her rather enlarged stomach.
Goodness, she felt like a bleached whale, She thought. As she had often joked around with Lily. Sirius, as always her special knight in shining leather, swiftly came to her rescue. Dismissing away any and all insecurities she must have.
But oh well. It was the many trials and tribulations of pregnancy that she had to go through.
She swung her swollen feet off of the bed and onto the chilly wooden floor. Standing up, she wobbled slowly to the door, yawning as she scratched at her head. She no doubt looked like a mess right now. The sound of her naked feet tapping over the cold floor was the only sound that could be heard throughout the silent haven as she wandered outside of the room, and through the hallway. She came to a sudden stop at the kitchen her eyes locking onto the still figure of someone sitting atop a stool.
The figure's lean posture was hunched over the kitchen counter, a whiskey glass held tightly in his hand, a bottle filled with intoxicating amber liquid sitting right next to him, the pale orange hues raining over the tensed muscles that were peaking through his black tank top. His form was rigid, a hand resting over his face, his breathing flat. He seemed to be at his weakest point right in that very moment.
Her mouth went dry.
Not again.
She gulped harshly, desperate to satisfy her throat.
"Sirius."
His head snapped up, coming to turn around in the stool, clearly startled. His wide gray eyes meeting with her hazel ones. Now, in another circumstance she would've burst out in a fit of giggles at his comically wide eyes, But not this time. No.
