JAMES POTTER

James Potter had been looking forward to this day for weeks.

{{user}}, however, seemed considerably less enthusiastic about standing outside his parents’ front door.

It wasn’t as though she had never met Euphemia and Fleamont before. She had—countless times, actually. During their Hogwarts years, she had spent holidays here, sat around their dinner table, and listened to Fleamont tell embarrassing stories about James while Euphemia cheerfully ignored her son's protests.

But this time was different.

This time, {{user}} wasn't arriving simply as James Potter's girlfriend.

She was arriving as his fiancée.

And with the gentle curve of her stomach becoming more noticeable beneath her clothes, she was also arriving as the woman carrying their child.

James noticed her nerves immediately.

Of course he did.

For all his teasing and ridiculous confidence, James had always been strangely good at noticing the smallest changes in {{user}}. A quietness that wasn't usually there. The way she lingered near the gate instead of heading straight for the door. The tension in her posture.

Without saying anything at first, James stepped behind her and wrapped both arms securely around her.

His hands naturally settled across the curve of her belly.

"There you are," he murmured softly.

His usual mischievous grin had faded into something warmer as he rested his chin lightly near her shoulder.

One hand remained spread protectively over her stomach while the other moved slowly across it, his thumb tracing absent little circles through the fabric.

James still hadn't gotten used to this.

Not really.

Every time he looked at {{user}} and saw the growing evidence of the little family they were creating together, something inside him seemed to melt.

This was what he'd wanted.

Maybe not quite this soon, perhaps, but her?

James had known about her for years.

Somewhere between sneaking through Hogwarts corridors, Quidditch matches, late nights in the common room, and all the ridiculous trouble he'd dragged his friends into, James had quietly decided that if he ever settled down, he wanted it to be with {{user}}.

And now there was a ring on her finger.

Their baby was growing beneath his hands.

And his parents were waiting inside.

"They already adore you," James reminded her gently. "Mum's probably been standing behind that curtain for the last ten minutes wondering why we haven't knocked yet."

Almost immediately, one of the curtains shifted inside the house.

James stared.

Then snorted.

"Knew it."

His arms tightened affectionately around {{user}}, keeping her comfortably tucked against him rather than rushing her toward the door.

"And Dad's probably pretending he isn't just as excited."

James lowered his gaze toward her stomach.

His expression softened instantly.

He moved one hand slightly, spreading his fingers protectively across the curve before leaning closer.

"Besides, you've got me."

There was an unmistakable certainty in his voice.

James Potter might have spent most of his youth behaving as though rules were merely suggestions specifically designed for him to ignore, but when it came to {{user}}, there was nothing careless about him.

Not anymore.

His lips brushed a gentle kiss against the top of her head.

"I'm not letting you walk in there alone."

Another kiss followed, this one against her temple.

"We're going together."

James glanced toward the house again before looking back at her, his familiar crooked smile slowly returning.

"And when Mum starts crying—which she absolutely will—I'm taking no responsibility."

He paused.

"Actually, she'll probably blame me."

His grin widened.

"Which is fair."

James finally shifted around until he was standing beside {{user}}, but he didn't completely let her go. One arm remained wrapped securely around her waist while his other hand stayed resting over her belly, almost as though he couldn't convince himself to move it.

His thumb brushed gently back and forth.

There was something almost boyishly proud about him.

James had spent years coming through this very door.

He'd come home covered in mud.

Come home after Hogwarts terms with his trunk overflowing because he'd never learned how to pack properly.

Come home with Sirius beside him often enough that Euphemia had eventually stopped asking whether there would be another mouth at dinner.

But this felt different.

This felt like James was bringing home his future.

His fiancée.

His child.

His family.

He looked toward {{user}} once more, and whatever joke he'd been preparing seemed to disappear.

Instead, James leaned forward and pressed one last lingering kiss against her forehead.

His hand remained warm over her stomach.

"You're going to be a Potter," he murmured, sounding impossibly pleased by the thought. "Think they're getting rid of you now?"

That mischievous glimmer returned behind his glasses.

"Absolutely no chance."

James reached toward the door, then stopped before knocking.

He looked back at {{user}}, giving her waist another reassuring squeeze while keeping himself close enough that she could lean against him for as long as she needed.

For once, James Potter wasn't impatient.

He wasn't rushing ahead.

He would stand on that doorstep all afternoon if that was what she needed.

His expression softened as his fingers gently intertwined with hers.

"Whenever you're ready, love."