The Art of Living - R. Black

twenty

Author's Note: I'm back!!! After some much needed time away and a trip overseas, I'm finally back and I'm so excited for you guys to read this chapter, it's one of my favorites.

Song for the second part of this chapter: My Girl by The Temptations

- - - - -

November 2nd, 1996

I glance over at the clock in the library and see that it reads 11:32pm. The rain is pounding against the roof and bouncing off of the tall windows that line the library. The occasional lightning strike illuminates the sky and the thunder shakes the house every once in a while.

It's been raining in London for the past few days and shows no sign of letting up.

"Meredith, we should go to St. Mungo's," Regulus says.

He's sitting down in one of the plush armchairs, watching me pace. Regulus's book remains in his lap, still open to the page he was trying to read. He's been reading for a couple hours and I'm almost certain it's to keep his mind off of the fact that it's Sirius's birthday tomorrow. He's supposed to be turning 37.

"Not yet," I reply. "It's probably just Braxton Hicks."

It's not Braxton Hicks.

"I'm not having this baby yet, I'm not due for another month."

Regulus sighs, "I know, I know. But if the contractions keep up we need to go. It's not Braxton Hicks, angel."

I ignore him because we both know he's right and keep pacing the length of the library. I've been doing this for the past half hour or so, since the contractions have started to get stronger.

"It's too early," I say.

"If your contractions keep up for the next hour, we're going," Regulus says. "You're not having our baby in this house with Kreacher as your midwife."

I stifle a laugh at the thought even though I'm starting to slightly panic with the fact that I'm in labor right now. I honestly think Kreacher would pop back to Grimmauld Place so that he wouldn't have to deal with that.

"Reg, that's not what I meant. It's too early to have her-, it's still premature, late preterm, but still too early," I state. My words are coming out quickly and I can hear the fear in my own voice.

Regulus sets his book to the side and gets out of his chair. His arm wraps around my waist, his hand on the small of my back to bring me closer to him. "Hey, it's going to be okay," He says. "I was reading and most babies born at 36 weeks are perfectly fine."

"Most, not all," I reply.

Regulus gently cups my jaw, tilting my face up to look at him. "Let's just go to the hospital then, please?" He asks. "I know it's probably too early but there's no harm in going."

"Okay, fine," I say.

He kisses me, both hands cupping my face. "I'll go grab the bag. Wait here, love."

- - - - -

November 3rd, 1996

Despite the utter exhaustion that I feel, I'm smiling as I watch Regulus talk in a hushed voice to our baby girl. He's leaning over the bassinet, his pointer finger taken prisoner by our daughter, who is fast asleep with her small hand clasped tightly over Regulus's finger.

"Come sit," I say, gesturing for my husband to come sit beside me in the small hospital bed.

Regulus smiles at me and starts very carefully rolling the bassinet over towards the bed, being careful not to wake her.