Freed

Thirty-Three

A/N: Double update!!
"Harry, this is probably the hundredth fucking time!" I yell, shaking my credit card bill in the air. Exasperated, I throw it against his chest, the paper lightly touching his chest and floating downwards. "When the hell are you going to get it in your head that you aren't a fucking monarch anymore?!"

"It isn't that big of a figure!" Harry yells back at me. I scoff, grabbing hold of my head.

"Harry, we don't earn half the amount of those figures," I let out an exasperated sigh. "This house could go! My savings could all go. Why the fuck aren't you getting this into that thick head of yours?" Frustrated tears prick at the corners of my eyes. Gosh, I hate pregnancy! It has been making me cry no matter what emotions I undergo.

"Don't be so melodramatic, Mus. I'm sure when we combine your salary and mine we'll be able to pay it off." I bang my palm against the dressing table in anger.

"Life isn't that simple! We aren't billionaires anymore," I grit my teeth. Fucking hell, why doesn't this man understand me anymore? A pain shoots through my womb, making me clutch it in pain. "Ah," I cry out, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Mus, what's wrong?" Harry asks, concerned. He's at my side, his left arm wrapped around me and the right one gripping my hand.

"Contractions," I manage to mumble. "Oh!" I yell, throwing my head back. "I think he's coming," I moan in pain.

"Then let's fucking go," Harry exclaims. The pain comes to a halt, allowing me enough time to purse my lips and cock an eyebrow at my stupid husband.

"No, let's sit here and have some - " Another contraction takes over me, cutting me off mid-sentence. "Ow! Get the car keys," I scream. Harry guides me out of the room and towards the front door, yelling out Dean's name along the way. My best friend appears at the top of the stairs, concern washing over his face the second he sees my tortured state.

"Baby on the way!" Dean yells, bolting down the stairs toward us. I want to thank him for stating the obvious. Good God, I'm surrounded by complete idiots. He reaches us, supporting the other side of my body.

"You're driving," Harry tells him, as we step out into the driveway.

"Oh no, I'm sitting in the backseat and taking care of my best friend," Dean says.

"In your fucking dreams," Harry practically growls.

"This isn't the bloody time!" I yell, reminding the two nincompoops about my presence. "Dean, you're driving and Harry is at the back with me. Period."

"Well, that's settled," my best friend grumbles. I smack his stomach, another contraction bringing me almost to the verge of tears.

"Keep breathing and we'll have you at the hospital in no time." Harry assures me, squeezing my hand comfortingly. Dean gets into the driver's seat and Harry helps me get in the back.

"You guys doing okay back there?" My best friend asks from the front seat when we're halfway through the drive. All I can do is continue breathing because right now even this task is using up all my energy.

"I think we're doing fine," Harry replies.

"Fine?!" I exclaim, my eyes going wide with the pain. "I'm never getting pregnant again!" Harry rubs the palm of my hand with his, pulling his lower lip between his teeth to stop from smiling. I can kill him now.

After what feels like forever, Dean finally pulls into the hospital driveway, parking the car in front of the main entrance. Harry gets out hastily, rushing to get a wheelchair and call a nurse.

"Just think of the child you'll hold once this is all done." Dean says, turning around in his seat.

"Shut the fuck up!" I yell, gripping the headrest of Dean's seat. My fingers dig into the leather. "I really can't think of shit today."

Harry comes back with a nurse, and they gently pull me out of the car and lower me into a wheelchair. This pain that I'm undergoing right now is unbearable. I've never experienced anything even remotely close to it. The nurse wheels me into the hospital, Harry sticking close to my side.

"Fuck you for getting me pregnant," I tell him.

"Hey, it wasn't exactly my fault," Harry defends himself. "And can we not do this right now? Because you're pretty loud, Mus." I yell as a major contraction spreads through my stomach.

"Fuck! This isn't..." I trail off, another one almost dropping me dead. I grip the sides of the wheelchair, groaning. Yes, I was excitedly and desperately waiting for this day, but now all I want to do is turn back time to nine months ago; and make sure that this mistake doesn't happen.

"Private room, Sir?" The nurse asks Harry.

"Yeah," he answers simply. I shake my head.

"Semi-private," I say. Silence ensues and a few minutes later I'm wheeled into a private room. "Harry," I groan, throwing my head back. "We can't afford this. My insurance expired too!"

"I'll handle it, just relax." Harry says, setting out sparks of frustration in my body once more. The nurse moves over to my other side, ready to help me stand up and get onto the bed. Harry holds me from the other side, but I shrug off his hand.

"Leave me be," I murmur.

"Mus, are you really gonna do this?" Harry asks, sounding as if he's reached the limit of his patience, which is quite ironic.

"I am because you never fucking listen!" I yell, gripping the sheets. Yup, today's my last day.

"Ma'am, you need to just calm yourself down right now." The nurse says, looking at me with sympathy. Her gaze then diverts to Harry and she offers him a nasty look that has me smiling through the pain. "And you need to stop arguing and getting her excited. Thank you." My husband purses his lips, silently cursing the poor nurse I bet. She's right though and I'm so glad that she shut him up.

"Please take a seat over there while I prepare your wife for her delivery." The nurse says, moving up the back of the bed, so that I'm in an upright position. I admire the curt tone she's using with Harry. If we could tip in hospitals, I'd give her a generous sum. Surprisingly, Harry obliges and takes a seat on the couch. My contractions have started coming at a slower rate and they're calming down quite a bit.

The nurse asks me a bunch of questions regarding the pain, the contractions, the way I'm feeling and a lot of other matters. I answer them all with as much patience as I can muster. To be honest, I just want this kid out and into this world, so that I can be at ease.