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She had the feeling if Atlantis was actually Hogwarts, Hell would have frozen over before there was a pregnant prefect at the castle. Part of her, at the inquisitive older age she was when she had first read the books, had wondered how on earth an entire castle full of teenagers with raging hormones managed to not get pregnant when typical Muggle birth control might not be around. Then she had thought there were probably traded spells and magical objects and maybe even catalogues and such discretely passed around with the things needed to be safe and careful. Or possibly things to have quite the enjoyable time.
But here in Atlantis? The Ravenclaw prefect was a short, ill-tempered pregnant woman. Woe betide anyone who got on her bad side, either, because she’d show no mercy.
Except to Leonard. As much as she had teased him in the post where she talked about being a prefect, she honestly had no worries he would break any rules. And, well, as he had said, he could manipulate their schedules with her newfound change in position as a full doctor on staff. Making sure they had the same shift with an ample lunch break was well within his purview.
And, technically, no rules were broken.
She stretched slightly, enjoying one of those leisurely lunches where not a single crumb of food was consumed and rather it was spent in bed. Say what you will about pregnancy, but she had never felt so...well, enamoured would be the polite term. It hadn’t helped that the month before they’d been separated by literal space. Not that she would begrudge her husband the chance to be back on an Enterprise again, but she preferred him nice and close.
Husband. She smiled as she caught glimpse of his wedding band on his hand. Not every woman gets married on a starship, and it hadn’t been the wedding she’d envisioned, but then, she didn’t care about all that. With Tom, for him, the wedding and the status of being married had been more important than being married to her. With Leonard, he wouldn’t have cared what she had wanted or where she had wanted to get married or even when if she had chosen to wait until after their daughter’s birth. As long as she wanted to marry him and stay in Atlantis, that was all he had cared about.
And that was why she wouldn’t leave. Come hell or high water or any amount of homesickness for London, Atlantis had become her other home. Her life was here now.
The alarm went off, signaling that their short bit of afternoon delight was soon to come to an end. There would be a shower together, most likely, but as their honeymoon was not exactly a thing that they were doing while they were both needed it wasn’t as though they could say “to hell with it all” and stay in bed for a nap and then round two. Even with Adrian there to heal people after Quidditch matches, with the amount of injuries coming in from training, she had the feeling a honeymoon would have to wait until Atlantis was back to normal and they could simply escape.
Or course, for all she knew, there could be premature labour or complications or any number of reasons to stay. But there were daily injuries and prefect duties and it simply wasn’t an option to spend all day every day deliriously sated in bed.
But maybe a few minutes today could be done…
She leaned over as he began to stir, almost pining him to the bed, and she kissed him softly. It didn’t take very long for it to become more heated, and his hands were in her hair, keeping her face close. “Work,” he murmured when he pulled away.
“Bugger work,” she said. “I want more time with my husband before I have to look in on patients who can’t stay on a broomstick.” If she wasn’t so heavily pregnant she would have been first in line to try out for the team, but after watching how brutal it was and seeing the injuries, she wasn’t sure she wanted to put her husband through that. He’d have been knocking people off their brooms for injuring her, of that she had no doubt.
He snickered and pulled her in for another kiss, and she melted as close to him as she could before he pulled away again and pulled her against him. She rested her head on his chest, the comforting sound of his heartbeat under her ear. “You know you’d be the main cause behind your teammates injuries if you were one of those broomstick flying hooligans,” he said. “You’d be a Beater for sure.”
“How do you know I wouldn’t be a Seeker?”
“I remember your reaction to Stephen Strange,” he said, turning his head to look at her.
“He was an egotistical, self-absorbed arse who deserved far worse than me throwing knives at printed pictures,” she murmured, and then stopped, burying her face into his chest. “Bloody hell, you’re right. I would be a Beater.”
“I know you as well as certain other people do,” he said.
She lifted her head up and shook her head. “As well as Sherlock knows me, as well as the psychopath knew me in that other universe, you know me best. Remember that. That’s why I’m married to you and not either of them.”
“Then I consider myself a lucky man,” he said, and she gave him another grin before kissing him a third time, one of the kisses she was sure would lead to them needing to make excuses no one would buy for their late return from lunch. But frankly, she didn’t care. Maybe some rules were meant to be a little bit broken.