Proof that Tony Stark has a Heart

Chapter 11

Despite everything written in the pregnancy books I had been reading, I had yet to reach the point where I was 'enjoying my pregnancy'. How anyone could possibly enjoy pregnancy when all it did was cause pain, nausea, and tiredness, I didn't know, but Healer Thompson assured me that some people got symptoms worse than others, and they would probably fade soon.

It was nearly the end of November already, and whenever I left the house it was to be confronted with a barrage of Christmas decorations and festive cheer. We hadn't decorated Grimmauld yet, as I wanted to wait until my friends were home from Hogwarts and we could all do it together. My stomach starting to round out by now, I wasn't really in the mood to hang wreaths and baubles and put up a tree, and I could hardly expect Remus to do all the work.

Dragging myself out of bed, I paused in front of the mirror in my bathroom, lifting up the hem of my shirt and smiling at the small swell of my stomach. It wasn't noticeable just yet if I wore baggy clothing, but Healer Thompson assured me I'd soon have to start wearing maternity clothes. I preferred the scenario in which I just didn't go outside, but according to Remus, that wasn't an option. Something about me going stir-crazy indoors and having to go on bed rest later in the pregnancy. Either way, it had involved Fleur shoving owl-order magazines full of clothes with elasticated waistbands at me. At least there were maternity clothes specifically for men; I would've refused point-blank to wear the flowery, frilly women's maternity clothes.

Heading back out into the bedroom after going through my morning routine, a hand automatically reached out to grab the phone resting on top of my dresser, tapping the screen to light up. I couldn't help but sigh when there was nothing; no missed calls, no new messages. I hadn't heard from Tony since Halloween, despite the man's promise of 'another time'. It hurt, but I tried not to think about it too much and resisted the ever-present urge to call the American myself. It was a good thing, really; it meant Tony was moving on, and I needed him to do that. The more time I spent talking to Tony, the harder it was not to tell him about everything.

I couldn't yet bring myself to start checking the news specifically for updates on Tony's life, feeling far too guilty when I should be asking the man myself about it, but things came up while I was browsing the internet, and I'd seen more than a few articles about whoever Tony had been seen partying with. Plenty of them briefly mentioned that he seemed to have all but forgotten his 'summer fling', and it made my chest ache.

"Cub, breakfast!" Remus called up the stairs, snapping me out of my maudlin thoughts. 

Setting the phone back down, I grabbed a warm jumper off the chair in the corner and left the room, hurrying downstairs and plastering a smile on my face. Remus had been more than patient with my pining for Tony, but he'd probably soon get sick of it. It was best for everyone involved to pretend I was getting over it.

.-.-.

All too soon came the day that Hogwarts broke up for Christmas, and suddenly Grimmauld Place was alive with noise. Luckily, the only people who would actually be living there over Christmas break — other than Remus and me — were Neville and Luna, whose remaining family had died in the war. The Weasley family would be spending most of their time at the Burrow, though I was reminded several times that I had an open invitation, should I ever feel lonely.

I didn't take up that invitation as much as I thought Molly was expecting me to; spending time around the house just the four of them was actually kind of nice. Sure, my gut churned whenever I saw Neville and Luna being adorably in love with each other — which was most of the time — but I attributed it to the morning sickness. Neville and Luna were two people who appreciated the ability to be silent in the company; all four of them could be in the same room together, doing their own things, not talking, and it would be comfortable. Part of me wished it could stay like that for longer than the Christmas holidays, with Remus writing in his armchair, Neville reading a book on Herbology, I doing some of his St Mungo's work and Luna sitting on the floor in front of me, neck craned so her ear could press to my rapidly-increasing stomach. The baby's aura soothed her, apparently. I didn't mind, really; Luna was always polite about it and respectful of my boundaries.