As if it wasn't embarrassing enough that her water had broken on top of Harry, it was also his birthday. Fantastic.

The fact his pants were soaked didn't even seem to bother him, because minute he realized what was happening, he jumped up and began aimlessly walking around the living room. With no idea what to do next. He'd imagined what it would be like when Moira finally gave birth to that little nugget, but now that the time was here, his mind was blank.

Moira -on the other hand- was suspiciously composed, which didn't pass him.

"How can you be so calm? Don't we have to rush to the hospital?"

She snorted in reply, "Yep."

"Then what are we doing still standing here?" He frowned.

"Ollie isn't gonna pop out within the next 5 minutes, I haven't felt the need to push yet, and I'm probably barely dilated. Stress will only speed up the process. So relax, Harry."

In return, Harraël seemed confused. As if he couldn't fathom the fact babies didn't simply crawl out of their mother's belly's and greet the world with happy smiles and tears of joy.

"Besides," Moira continued "I already called the hospital for a car. And haven't even had contractions, just a bunch of small cramps and they aren't so ba-"

She spoke too soon.

"You know what, never mind." She winced and reached for her bump, cradling it with the palms of her hands. The white flash of pain that had shot through her was unexpected, and unlike anything she'd ever felt. It wasn't a soul-piercing kind of pain, but it was foreign and, well; uncomfortable.

Looking back now, Moira could see she's been in labor much longer than she had realized. She would describe the contractions as cramps, that's where she went wrong.

Several times during that day, she'd felt these 'cramps' and thought she needed to go to the bathroom. Though she couldn't, so after a few minutes the cramping would go away. It finally clicked what those cramps meant when her water broke. It's kind of funny because weeks prior Ollie's due date, she'd been looking for labor signs. And then when it happened, she was oblivious.

Harraël came rushing towards her, like a hero to her rescue. Cupping her face and closely inspecting it to determine the severity of her suffering. "Are you alright? Does it hurt a lot? When did you call the hospital?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, she let a small giggle escape. Worried Harry was a very cute Harry. "You were too busy freaking out, I suppose," she paused, rubbing her belly "I'm fine for now. Let's just get downstairs."

When they arrived to the lobby of their apartment building, Moira shot Miles -the concierge- a look that Harry didn't understand.

"Is it time?" The old man asked, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"I'm afraid so," she confirmed "Is the car waiting?"

Miles walked back to his desk and fetched a leather weekend-bag from beneath. Handing it over to her, he momentarily squeezed her shoulder. "Good luck, dear. And yes, the car's waiting out front."

As a precaution measure, Moira had asked the concierge to keep her hospital bag here, in the lobby. In case she was out while her water broke and didn't have the time to go back up to her apartment to get it. Harraël wasn't aware of this so when he unzipped the bag, once they were seated in the car, it dawned upon him what the vague interaction between Moira and Miles was about.

Arriving at the hospital, two nurses were already waiting for their arrival with a wheelchair. In which Moira reluctantly took a seat, she considered protesting; since she could still easily walk. But knowing Harry's over-protective side, she decided against it. Instead of letting the nurses do their job, he insisted on pushing the wheelchair. Placing the leather bag on her lap, he rolled her to her private room in the delivery ward. Both of the young nurses shot Harraël flirty looks, and it made jealousy flutter within Moira. But who could blame them really, he was an Adonis. An Adonis in a rock band.

Once they got to the room, the nurses told her to get dressed into the mandatory hospital gown and get comfortable. And that the doctor would be with them shortly.

Moira exited the bathroom attached to the room, now in the green grown and carefully took a seat in the middle of the bed. Grabbing her phone from the side table.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked curiously after a few minutes of him sitting there in silence, watching her staring at her phone with a solemn expression, texting rapidly.

"Just letting my mom know that I'm going into labor." She informed him casually, as if it wasn't a big deal. Harraël realized that he was never going to fully figure her out, and he wouldn't want it any other way. Intense fondness for the woman beside him engulfed his entire being out of nowhere.

He took a seat next to her on the bed and wrapped an arm around her. "Should I leave when your mum arrives?" he asked as he pulled her closer.

"It's your birthday, so I can't blame you if you want to leave.." she muttered half-heartedly, sinking into his embrace.

"But?"

"But, I'd like for you to stay."

He seemed pleased with her answer. She started to feel the hand that was previously wrapped around her slowly begin to lift the gown from the back, venturing underneath over her bare skin. She felt a shiver run down her spine from the feeling of his fingers lightly trailing across her skin. It was a risky move, even for Harry. Besides kissing, hugging and hand holding, they hadn't done anything else. Especially not touching her naked skin in such an intimate way. Though the gesture didn't seem to be sexual, simply comforting.

"I'll take care of you." Harry told her, his lips barely moving.

His words warmed her from inside out, but Moira couldn't help but think: Who's going to protect me from you?

He looked away from her, his mind obviously going elsewhere, and his fingers stopped moving over her skin. Now, he just propped her back with his large hand. She saw him biting the inside of his cheek.

"You're so beautiful," He whispered, and her entire body stiffened, not having expected the compliment at all. "So honest, strong." his voice was raspy as he withdrew his hand to cup her cheek. His eyes looked right in to hers. "So...hard not to love."

"Harry...?" She said uncertainly.

"Moira, I knew you were something special the moment I saw you." Harry told her, licking at his chapped lips. His eyes were glazed over with something unknown, and she knew he wasn't exactly thinking clearly. "We were in the grocery store, and I saw you and you were so beautiful."

She tried to look away from him, her cheeks blushing profoundly. She didn't know how to respond to what he was saying-it was so unlike him to express his feelings like that.

A knock on the door saved her from having to answer.

Dr. Patel appeared from the doorway, holding Moira's file in hand on which she scribbled some additional notes. "H-harraël?" She stuttered, her eyes widening as she spotted not just one, but two of her patients. In the same room. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was laced with pure panic.

"Hello Dr. Patel." He greeted calmly, though he kept a masked expression. His dark green eyes watched closely as her face had paled significantly at this point.

"H-how," she began, pausing to swallow "How did you find out?"

Harry's facial expression morphed into one of complete confusion, "How did I find out what?"

The doctor released a breath she didn't even know she was holding, relief washing through her veins. He doesn't know yet, her inner-self whispered to her. "That I'm Moira's doctor as well as yours, you don't appear to be surprised."

"After hearing her mention you, I figured as much. So when I asked, she confirmed my suspicions." He explained, shrugging.

Dr. Patel nodded an continued to ask Moira the necessary questions and check up on how she was doing down under.

"I'll check on you in 15 minutes." She rushed out when she was done. Not waiting for a reply, the doctor left the room.

"Well that wasn't weird at all." Moira muttered sarcastically. Harry couldn't help but nod in agreement, silently questioning the doctor's odd behaviour.

They spent the next 10 minutes talking about what they thought Ollie was gonna look like.

All of a sudden, a lady ventured into the room at a slow, deliberate pace -without having knocked on the door. Looking like she was examining a mummy's tomb instead of a labor room. She scanned her surroundings, and her gaze was instantly glued to Harraël's who stayed put, his legs frozen as he watched the lady warily. She was dressed in a black knitted jumper, a simple jeans with brogues underneath. She was wearing a brown dust coat, a knitted beanie on top of her head and carrying a massive shopper bag that looked like it was about to burst and spread its contents all over the floor. All in all, Harry was pretty sure she wasn't a nurse.

"Who's this?" the lady questioned before he could, with raised eyebrows. Looking at Moira and then back at Harraël, inspecting him from the top of his head to the tip of his toes.

"Oh mom, this is Harraël Stones," Moira said "he's my umm.. friend."

Harry felt his heart ache. Hurt that she hadn't mentioned him to her own mother before, but then again; he didn't have the right to speak, since he hadn't told his mom either. Just his sister. The fact she hesitated in calling him a friend did manage to cheer him up. Any fool could see they weren't just friends. She was forgiven.

Extending his hand to the woman, she took it without a moment of hesitation. "Pleasure to meet you, Harraël," She squeezed his hand lightly "I'm Emelia King."

"The pleasure is all mine, ma'am."

"Oh please do call me Emelia!" her mother giggled, making Moira roll her eyes. Not even her own mother could resist his charm. Unbelievable.

Taking a seat in the chair next to the bed, Emelia pulled off her coat and folded her hands on her lap. By then, Harraël had distanced himself a little from Moira, not wanting to seem too affectionate with her. Since he was just a friend in her mother's eyes.

"How long have you known each other?" Emelia asked.

"About 5 months." Harry answered for them both.

"Moira Mae, shame on you! Why did you not tell me about this nice young man before!?" her mother exclaimed, clearly mortified. She turned to Harraël, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You'll have to excuse my daughter's poor manners, son. I thought I raised her better than this."

"That's alright, I'm used to it by now." He grinned.

"Hey!" Moira frowned. "Excuse you!"

Harry chuckled, and out of habit; he placed a quick kiss on her cheek. He instantly realized his mistake, but thankfully, Emelia was too distracted by the door opening to see what had just happened.

Dr. Patel re-entered and introduced herself to Moira's mom.

Since Moira was fully against an epidural and thus was having an unmedicated birth, her contractions soon became too strong for her to talk through them. This was when she started her breathing exercises, that she had read about in one of her books.

The nurses offered her a light snack and clear beverages to keep her hydrated. She didn't want an IV to maintain fluids, because it would refrain her from easily getting out of bed and urinating when she needed to. Between contractions, she walked around a bit and regularly changed positions on the bed. Staff at the hospital were on hand to take her blood pressure, time her contractions, and monitor the baby's position and progress.

During transitional labor, the last, most intensive, and fortunately the shortest of the phases of labor, her cervix dilated from seven to its final ten centimetres. Contractions were very strong at this point - usually 60 to 90 seconds long, and with intense peaks. Because they were spaced only about two or three minutes apart, it seemed as though she barely got to relax before the next contraction began. During transition, she felt strong pressure in her lower back and rectum, nausea, fatigue, tightness in the throat and chest area, shakiness and chills. It was a physically demanding and draining time. She felt exhausted, frustrated, impatient, and overwhelmed.

Throughout it all, Harry had insisted on holding her hand. Which was insanely annoying at first, with sweaty hands and all. But in the end, she was thankful for his support. True to his word, he hadn't left her. And his reassuring, sweet nothings meant the world to her.

"You're doing great, princess. You're going to be the most amazing mommy." He pecked her hand.

Her mother sat on the other side of her, she didn't say much, but every time Moira looked her way. She shot her a smile so full of love that it made her heart increase in size. Her mother didn't need words to support her daughter.

When the time was there, Dr. Patel told her to move into the pushing position and follow her instructions, she started pushing at regular intervals. Three times with each contraction, or when she felt the urge to. She hadn't expected it to be so complicated. She put all of her effort into each push, but maintained control, too -you're not supposed to push with your upper body or strain your face since this could actually leave you with black or bloodshot eyes or bruises on your face which wasn't the best look for those first snapshots with the baby.

Harraël watched in amazement as Ollie was finally pulled from the bed and board his mother had provided for him for the last 9 months. Never in his life had he experienced something so raw and breathtaking. The whole scene was simply mesmerizing, in the most beautiful way possible. His eyes were glued to the little bundle of joy that Dr. Patel held in her hands.

Moira revelled in the first lusty cry that left her son's lips, relief as well as happiness washing over her in tidal waves. Tears instantly escaping her eyes and rolling down her face.

"You did it, you bloody did it." Harry whispered to her, repeatedly kissing away her tears. "I am so proud of you, baby. He is perfect." She saw the tears glimmering in his eyes and for a second, she felt the strong urge to tell him she loved him. But she didn't. Not knowing whether it was a spur of the moment thing or if she actually meant it.

"Thank you for staying with me, Harry." She croaked between her sobs.

Not being able to stop himself, Harry placed a tender kiss on her lips. "Best birthday gift ever."

Emelia was sobbing uncontrollably from beside the bed, holding her daughter's hand to her face and not following the interaction between Moira and Harry. She kept telling her over and over again how proud she was.

After the nurses cut the cord, suctioned out any mucus from Ollie's nose and mouth, helped guide his shoulders and torso out and those cute little legs. He got a brisk rubdown and got ointment placed in his eyes to prevent infection. They weighed him and measured how big the little guy was. Eventually and finally, he got wrapped into a small blanket to prevent heat loss and placed him on his mother's chest. Where he instantly began searching for her breast.

Right then, she didn't care Harry was in the room. He'd seen her give birth, for Christ's sake. And thus, she pulled up her hospital gown and guided her tiny human to her breast. He instantly latched on, instinct kicking in. It hurt a little at first, it was a nagging kind of pain. But she soon got used to it. And it was worth it, after all, the milk inside her breasts provided her son with the substances a baby required to consume.

Moira looked down at him with nothing but pride. "He is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," she sobbed, carefully rubbing his little cheek with the back of her fingers. She felt hungry and thirsty and a wide range of emotions -especially relief, elation, and impatience to finally get her hands on her precious son. Finally.

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Oliver Flynn King

February 1, 2015

11:48PM

6Ibs - 15 oz.

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