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It had been a long weekend.
Hermione rubbed her hands together as if to dust them off, smiling at all the hard work she’d accomplished in a single afternoon. She turned to Harry, whose glasses slid to the tip of his nose and hair stuck up in odd directions even more so than normal.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Pulling his glasses from his face, Harry wiped them off with a clean section of his grey cotton shirt. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined spending my birthday.”
“You hate celebrating your birthday,” she said, a light laugh punctuating her words.
Sighing, Harry replaced his glasses onto his nose. “Right, well…I also dislike painting, do-it-yourself projects, and claiming my ancestral home for the next generation of Potter children.”
“Technically, your ancestral home would be Prewett Manor.” Hermione knew she’d won the argument; Harry’s head rested against her shoulder as a groan left him. “We could always throw an actual party at Grimmauld if you’d rather not deal with Potter Cottage.”
“No, you’re right.” Music to her ears. Hermione placed a quick kiss to the top of Harry’s head and savored the moment. “I think my mum and dad would want me to be here. And I like that we can have our friends over to celebrate.”
“It’s not every day Harry Potter turns forty.” Hermione slipped her hand into his and placed it over her protruding belly. “A milestone birthday, a new baby, a new home—I guess it’s true what they say about turning forty.”
His fingers splayed over her belly just as the little life inside kicked. The grin that spread across his face was infectious. “What do they say about forty?”
Hermione brought her eyes to his, positively beaming. “Life begins.”
“Clearly whoever said that has never painted an entire cottage in a single weekend.” Harry chuckled, and then sighed as his gaze drifted towards their newly painted walls. “I don’t know if crimson was the right choice.”
With perfect timing, their baby kicked Harry’s hand. Hermione laughed. “You’re wrong. She’s definitely going to be a Gryffindor.”
They sat wrapped in each other’s arms simply staring at the blank, crimson walls of their baby’s nursery. She wasn’t sure what Harry was thinking, but her own thoughts settled contentedly on all the things they had to look forward to: first steps, first words, first broom, first trip aboard the Hogwarts Express, first love and first heartbreak.
With what felt like a lifetime behind them, Hermione smiled as she sank into the warmth of comfort knowing they had a lifetime still ahead.