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"James?" I ask, lying down on the couch.
"Yes, my Lily-Flower?" he says, entering the living room. I glare at him over my bump.
"Don't call me that; it's creepy," I moan at him. He rolls his eyes and sits on the arm by my feet.
"I'm sorry. What did you need me for?"
"We need a name," I say. He cringes. We have hand this conversation at least five times before and it always leads to an argument. We have gone through so many baby name books, both wizarding and muggle. Yet, we still have not found a name we agree on.
"James, he is due any day now. He needs a name. Just please throw some ideas at me," I say pleadingly.
"Ok," he says, lifting up my feet, sitting down, and then placing them on his lap. "What about Geoffrey?"
"Geoffrey Potter, no that is awful," I say, closing my eyes as he begins to massage my feet.
"Lionel?"
"That's even worse than Geoffrey."
"Ok, do you want something simple, or something weird, or something that's not even technically a name?" He asks, rubbing his thumbs in circles over the bottom of my feet.
"I don't know. I think I'll just know the right name when I hear it. Merlin, James, why have you never given me a foot rub before?" I say, moaning slightly.
"You always wanted other areas rubbing," he chuckles. I kick him gently. "We could just call him James Junior."
"Definitely not."
"Tim?"
"No."
"Kevin?"
"No."
"John?"
"All these names are really boring, James," I say.
"Ok then, what about Lothario?"
"Too Shakespeare-y."
"Merlin, woman, nothing pleases you."
"Your foot massage pleases me," I say and he laughs.
"How come we only get your opinion on the names? I think he should get a choice too," he says rubbing my bump.
"By all means, ask the baby," I say, a little annoyed by the absence of foot rubbing.
"Hey there little guy," James says softly, his face close to my belly. "What do you think of the name Simon?" He places his ear to my belly button and I roll my eyes, smiling with affection.
"I don't think he likes Simon," I say.
"Do you like Benjamin?" Again, he puts his ear down. "I guess not."
"Joseph?" Nothing.
"Malcom?" Nothing.
"Harry?" Kick.
James and I look at each other, eyes wide.
"Did he just-?" James gasps.
"Yeah," I breath. James puts his head to the bump again.
"You like the name Harry, little guy?"
Kick.
James grins widely and plants kisses all over my belly. He looks up at me, eyes bright.
"Do you like Harry?" he asks, barely above a whisper. I grab his shirt and pull his face up to mine, and brush my lips against his, smiling.
"I love Harry," I reply, just as soft. He crashes his lips into mine, grinning between kisses. He leans his forehead against mine, and green eyes stare back into hazel.
"I hope he has your eyes," James whispers.