Hero of the Story || James Potter x Hermione Granger Fanfiction

50 | the world is brighter than the sun now that you are here

xxxxx.

the world is brighter than the sun now that you are here

(Light by Sleeping at Last)

_________

July 31, 1980

"James, please, just sit down."

He rapidly blinked and stared at his mother with wide eyes, before allowing Sirius to yank him down the couch. He warily gazed at the crowd crammed inside his living room, all quite preoccupied with what was happening in their bedroom. Even Sirius' comforting pats on his back didn't help nor Remus' bar of chocolate to keep his sanity intact. Peter seemed just as bad as James was, nervously wringing his hands in trepidation while Anya tried her very best to calm her firstborn.

Lily was as pale as the moonlight, looking like she'd pass out soon, and if it weren't for Sev's strong hold on her, James didn't doubt she'd be a heaped mess on the floor. Regulus Black, the strangest visitor in his home, had a blank look on his face but James knew from the way he held himself ramrod straight and with tensed shoulders meant that the Black heir was every bit as worried as everybody else in this room for Hermione.

Hermione.

The thought of his wife once more made his breath hitch. Try as he might, even when he strained his ears, he couldn't hear any sound from their bedroom. Mary had strictly barred them from coming inside while she assisted his heir's birth, erecting various Silencing Charms to ease their worries. The Healer earnestly promised she'd remove the spell as soon as the craziness of it all had finally ended. But the thing was, James wanted to hear something, Hermione's exclamations of pain—even expletives, honestly—just so he knew that everything was all right.

His nervousness was too palpable for him to sit still. He shrugged off Sirius' tight hold on his arm and shot back onto his feet, starting his pacing again. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw how Euphemia wanted to tell him off but Fleamont had placed a hand on her arm, a small smile on his face.

"What's taking so bloody long?" Peter whined. "Hermione's been in labour for three hours already!"

James thickly swallowed, numerous worst-case scenarios swirling in his mind. Pregnancy still flummoxed him deeply; he'd tried to read a few pregnancy books just so he could understand what Hermione was going through. He even invited the blokes to pour over one particular, ridiculous book, but they'd ended up too flabbergasted at the mechanics of labour and had ended up throwing the horrifying book away. Hermione had constantly assured him that although this pregnancy made a great many weird changes in her body, her anatomy was designed to handle such a stressful event.

He reverently went with Hermione during her check-ups at St. Mungo's. He shamelessly burst into tears when the Healer conjured an image over Hermione's abdomen, showing their little boy floating inside Hermione's uterus. He'd asked incessant questions, about the possible risks of her pregnancy, and although the Healer constantly reassured him that Hermione and the baby were healthy, James still couldn't stop himself from worrying.

And now... now holy shite. When Hermione announced earlier that day she was experiencing strong, regular contractions, James went into blind, sheer panic. They'd both agreed Hermione would give birth at home, and so, James had made a series of firecalls, even blasted his Patronuses just to gather everybody important in their lives together and support him while he waited for their baby's birth.

"I need to get away from here," he finally declared, steeling himself to a firm halt. He wasn't sure how he looked right now, but he could hazard from the deep concern on the others' faces that he looked like shite. "If I stay here a minute more without a bloody fucking clue as to what is happening to my wife, I'm going to lose my mind."