No Fury

Now: Seventy

A/N: I really have loved doing this, and love your support for it SO MUCH. It's mostly happy fluff from here on out because I made you suffer pretty consistently for 67 chapters. (But who knows, I might decide to hell with it and make you all hurt again. Hee! I kid. OR DO I?) ~ S.

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Harry watches Anne for several long breaths as she dozes soundly in the bassinet, before turning and smiling at me.

She sleeps through the night now . . . but the newborn child won't. Already I am dreading the long nights. Already I am anticipating the dizzying sense of sleepwalking through daylight hours.

And I will weather it alone while Harry is gone to Spain.

He comes to me, bending to cup my jaw, kiss my mouth. Pulling back, his brow furrows as he takes in my posture, my expression. "What are you thinking? You look . . ." He searches my eyes, settling on, "displeased."

This makes me laugh. "I am wondering how much time I have you alone before the child wakes."

Harry's mouth forms a tiny 'o' and he turns to look over his shoulder as he seems to remember the sleeping newborn. "Well, then, let us get to it . . ."

With a little growl, his mouth comes to my neck, hands bunching my skirts in his hands to pull the gown up and over my head. His palms are warm, and smooth on my hips and up my waist. Hungry, as if he hasn't felt me in days.

And despite the changes to the room, the smell of wood and stone is the same, the feel of his hands and mouth on me is the same. Nostalgia hits me like a crashing wave, and in an instant it seems as though my heart grows too big in my chest.

We've made love in here before, but it feels like it was a lifetime ago: we were two different people, so much younger somehow. Our circumstances were so at odds with what they are now. There was a desperation there, one that told us we might not be able to touch like this again, that this was the last time, no, this time was the last.

I don't know how to mark this moment, or if I want it to always feel that desperate, somehow.

I want it to change, I want it the same.
I want it to be better and I want it to be just as good as that.

The single word bubbles up and out of me: "Undress."

Harry takes a step back, his mouth curling into a smile as he reaches for the neck of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. "Yes, my Lady."

He seems to know exactly what thought has just occurred to me. I let my eyes move down his torso; he is smooth, and long, and strong.

Pushing his trousers down his hips, he straightens, watching me. "And now?"

"Go lie on the bed for me." I try to sound stern, to sound sullen, even, but I can't keep the smile out of my voice.

Dutifully, he turns and walks toward the bed, and I take the opportunity to admire  his perfect backside.

"I am so nervous," he says playfully. "What have you planned for me?"

"Lie back," I tell him, grinning. "Hands to the headboard."

He does what I ask with a delighted smile, and watches as I walk over in my undergarments, climbing onto the bed. I prowl over him slowly, staring down at his naked skin.

"So ripe and lush on my bed," I tease him, bending to suck at his neck. Beneath me, he shudders, and I feel the tension in his arms as he resists reaching for me.

Pulling back, I gaze down at him, and fight another smile.
I nearly can't believe who we were back then.
I nearly can't believe there was a time when he didn't belong to me so completely.