Author's Note: This chapter contains a sexually explicit scene. If that's not your cup of tea, stop reading now. However, if you continue, dear reader, please know that this is the first time I've published a scene of this nature, I welcome and appreciate your feedback.

Thank you again to my beta, BurgundyHope.

Rated R

Then Comes Baby

Well, that's a disaster.

Katie stood naked before the mirror, taking stock, six weeks after the birth of her son. Most of her belly had gone away, but there was still a bit of wobbly, pouchy skin there. Her once flat belly button resembled a crater. Her hips were fuller, and was that—Dear Merlin, those were stretch marks on her bum! Where had those come from? At least her blond hair was thick and shiny, her smile was as bright as ever, and her bosom may well have been a national treasure. After a month of "toughening up", her nipples no longer looked raw and chapped, but they certainly weren't small and pink like they used to be. She thought about using a hand mirror to examine other bits, but didn't feel that brave today.

Taking a deep breath, Katie turned from her image and walked into her bedroom. Her mother had bought her three velour tracksuits, and Katie—never fashionable anyways—practically lived in them. She pulled on the soft, black trousers and a Puddlemere jumper. House shoes and a ponytail completed the look. Since before the birth of her ten-pound, eight-ounce son, Katie had given no thought to being sexy, but all of sudden she was very aware of her own dumpiness. Maybe no ponytail today? And shoes, she could wear real shoes, and a vest under the matching track jacket instead of the lumpy, old jumper. Yes, that was slightly better.

oOo

"Use your spoon," Oliver said to his nephew, handing the lad a utensil. Young Campbell was trying to eat his porridge with his fingers, a mess Oliver did not want to clean up later.

Curled on his chest was Oliver's wee son, Robert. Well, Bobby, it had only taken a day before they'd shortened the baby's name. He was a big strong lad, his massive head already bobbling around on his neck, keenly aware of everything around him.

"Six weeks today, mate," Oliver said, stroking the baby's back. "You're still a bit useless, I'm afraid. You don't do much."

"Are you disparaging our son?" Katie skipped down the last steps of the backstairs into the kitchen.

There was something different about her today, but damned if Oliver knew what. Her face seemed more open? Or her hair was…something? His eyes dropped to her chest. There was a hint of cleavage, and a pleasing roundness that was usually covered up. Oliver shifted in his chair. Was it his husbandly duty to compliment whatever she changed? What if he guessed wrong, or blurted out something about her boobs? That rarely went well. It seemed a lot safer just to keep his gob shut until he figured it out.

Oliver cleared his throat. "I was just saying that he doesn't do much to earn his keep."

"He doesn't have to," Katie cooed, she bent to tickle the soft skin under Bobby's chin, but Oliver was distracted by her soft skin. "He does that."

A gummy, joyful smile lit up the baby's face, and he laid his head on Oliver's chest. "Alright, that's pretty sweet," he admitted.

"Good morning, Cam," Katie sing-songed to the toddler. "Yucky porridge this morning?"

"Yucky," Campbell echoed, and flung porridge with his spoon.

"Hm, looks like you are done then." Katie took the bowl and spoon, Summoning a rag with her wand to scrub the boy clean.

"Come along, wee man," Oliver said, standing up. "We can get dressed, and go for a fly."

Campbell scrambled off his chair and scurried up the stairs, yelling, "Zip! Zip! Zip! Go the broomstick!"

"Be careful," Katie said.

"Broomstick safety is my number one priority." Oliver passed the baby into her arms, and Bobby snuggled against Katie's chest, drawing Oliver's eyes once again. He'd seen her breasts naked more than clothed since Bobby was born, usually with the baby hanging off one side or the other, and Katie grimacing or half-asleep or both. Today, covered in ribbed, pink cotton, Oliver couldn't take his eyes off their mouthwatering fullness. It wasn't his imagination that they were bigger, and they hadn't been small to begin with. Merlin, they would overflow his hands now.

After Bobby was born, the midwife had given a long list of instructions and edicts, the only one Oliver remembered was the No Sex Rule. He saw what Katie went through to push their son into the world, there was just no way that Oliver was going to bother her, she would have to be the one to initiate something. Still, the midwife had said six weeks, which was today. Oliver looked into Katie's eyes, smiling.

"Make sure Campbell dresses himself, and puts on his own shoes," Katie recited. "And don't get fussed if he puts them on the wrong feet. His mum will be here—"

Oliver stopped her with a kiss. "You're sexy when you get into Mum Mode."

"Go on with yourself, Wood!" Katie giggled. "Seriously, before Cam gets into something he shouldn't."

Oliver dragged his fingertips across her arse before jogging up the stairs.

oOo

Katie backed out of the darkened nursery into the hall. This was just Bobby's third night in his own room, before he'd slept in a cradle in the corner of her bedroom. Well, the cradle had started out next to her bed, then the end of it, and finally across the room. She was so attuned to her son that every soft sigh or snuffle he made kept her awake. After five nights of obsessively checking his blankets again and again, Oliver had moved the cradle.

Casting charms to carry Bobby's cries to her anywhere in the house, Katie backed right into the solid wall of her husband's chest. His hand covered her mouth to stifle the sound of her surprised yelp, and she elbowed him hard in the ribs. Whirling around, Katie eyed Oliver, hands on her hips.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"I wasn't expecting you to walk right into me, was I?" he replied, chuckling. "Not that I'm objecting, mind you."

"Shhh!" Katie looked over her shoulder at the door, but all remained quiet. Was it too quiet? Should she check on Bobby one last time?

"C'mon, lass, he'll be up to feed in a few hours."

That was true enough. Oliver pulled her into their bedroom across the hall. Katie expected Oliver to wrap her up in his arms and kiss her—or was she hoping—but he didn't. Instead, he took a deep breath, his eyes roving over her from head to toe, lingering on her chest. All day, Katie's mind had strayed to her husband. She kept finding herself staring off into space, imagining the cut of her husband's muscles, or the pressure of his lips as he tasted hers, or the thrill of having his course hands sneaking into her knickers. It left Katie tingling with anticipation. Yet, just as strongly as those urges rocked through Katie's body, her insecurities kept seizing her mind. Now, here was Oliver, hesitating with her. Why? What was holding him back? Did he have trouble seeing her as a woman now that she was a mother? It never seemed to bother him when she was as round as a Quaffle. Was he not attracted to her now that her svelte Chaser's body was a thing of the past?

"How was training?" Katie asked. She walked around Oliver, kicking her trainers off, and climbing onto their bed.

"It was the same as when you asked me that question at dinner."

"Sorry." Katie smiled sheepishly. "I think I got distracted and didn't hear your answer."

Oliver lay on his side of the bed. "That's alright, it was dead boring anyway."

"Quidditch? Never!"

"Maybe not the Quidditch part, but the drills."

Katie quirked an eyebrow, and tried to suppress a smile. "Let me see if I understand: You, Oliver Wood, Quidditch fanatic, thought drills were boring? You, the man who forced me out of bed to train for hours on end? In the rain! In the snow! At dawn!"

Oliver grinned, goosing her arse. "So, I might have been a bit of a zealous prat back in our Hogwarts' days…"

He was on his back, his arms at his sides, but his face was turned to her. Oliver's dark eyes moved over Katie like a caress, and yet there was still a sense of restraint, like maybe Oliver was waiting for something. Katie folded her hands in her lap, realizing she felt exactly the same. She'd had just enough sleep in the last few nights to actually miss sex. She missed the physical aspect of skin on skin, his hands on her breasts, her mouth against his skin, the release. She also missed the closeness, the feeling of femininity she got when he was appreciating all of her curves, the rush of excitement when she made him groan low in his throat.

Katie wanted to feel bold, but her nerve just wasn't there. Zeroing in on Oliver's hand where it lay limply by his thigh, she reached out and tickled the palm. His fingers flexed slightly. Stealing a glance at his face, she caught him watching her closely, waiting to see what she would do next. With just that tiny bit of encouragement, Katie walked her fingers up his forearm, over a day-old bruise that had turned purple at the edges, to the crook of his elbow where she tickled the tender skin there. His hand curled into a fist, his chest rising and falling in short breaths.

"Oliver?"

Suddenly, Katie felt shy, unsure of herself. Her hand stilled on Oliver's arm. She needed more than these small clues that he liked what she was doing. This time, Katie needed Oliver to take charge. She needed to feel desired, but she didn't want to have to ask for it. That was completely unfair, of course, especially for a man like Oliver who understood almost nothing about women.

Their eyes met—only for a moment, but it felt like longer—before Oliver surged to his knees, crushing Katie against him. His powerful arms were around her, her hands trapped against his chest, and his lips moving against hers. For one surprised moment, Katie was stiff in his embrace, but quickly melted into him, returning his kiss with a moan.

"Can I kiss you? I want to kiss you," he murmured, his lips ghosting from hers across her cheek to nip at her ear.

Katie giggled, which was apparently the only agreement Oliver needed. She worked her hands loose to run her fingertips down his flanks, under his t-shirt, and over his taut abdominal muscles. Bless the gods for sit-ups. Her fingers played in the thatch of dark hair that gathered between his pectorals.

"I've been thinking about this all day," Oliver said. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the floor. "Made it damn uncomfortable to sit on a broomstick."

Impatient tugs got the jacket of Katie's tracksuit off so it could join his t-shirt. Twin emotions of excitement and anxiety coiled in Katie's belly. He was reaching for the hem of her vest, his eyes already on her breasts, but Katie stopped him with a simple touch on his wrist.

"Katie?" Oliver's eyes met hers. "Are-are you not ready?"

"I'm…a little…nervous," she confessed. Like a bloody virgin!

His hands settled solidly around her waist, his gaze falling to her lap. "Is everything…alright…down there?"

"Merlin, I hope so." Katie half laughed, clenching her hands in her lap. "I'm afraid it'll hurt, I reckon, after everything."

"I'll be gentle."

His hand rubbed up and down her side. She wondered if he knew how reassuring that tender touch was to her? This man of hers, he was burly and powerful with bulging muscles and big, rough hands, and the softest touch.

"We don't even have to—"

Katie shut him up with a kiss. "I want to," she whispered against his mouth, and felt him grin.

Still, Katie pulled back, watching him with a pensive expression. She was afraid that it would hurt, but rationally she knew that women all over the world had intercourse after birth so things must go back to normal down there. That was only a small part of the reason she was nervous.

"Oliver, I-I don't look the way I did before the pregnancy."

His brow puckered. "I know. We share a room and a bath, lass."

"And…you don't mind?" Katie forced her eyes to stay on Oliver as understanding dawned.

"Merlin," he breathed. His hands moved down to cup her arse, his lips nuzzling her throat and chest. "Don't be daft, Katie."

With her fingers pressing into the muscles of his back, Katie laughed loudly. "You have the best pillow talk."

"Talking is not what I do best." Oliver stood to add the rest of his clothes to the pile on the floor, then climbed back on the bed to kneel before Katie. Her eyes were drawn to the line of hair from his belly button to where his cock stood ready. Excitement fizzed inside of Katie with all the bubbles and sweetness of champagne in her veins. Physically, he wanted her, and that was certainly something.

"Your turn," he whispered.

Katie shook out her hair like a mane. She was a Gryffindor, time to be brave. She pulled off her top, Oliver's eyes were glued to her breasts still inside the plain white of her nursing bra, her nipples pressed against thick circles of thick cotton to catch any milk that might leak. Regardless, they were her best assets, and Oliver had always liked her boobs.

"Damn, lass." His voice was quiet, a bit strangled, his hands curled tightly against his mighty thighs.

"I'm not done yet."

Rising up on her knees, Katie pulled off her trousers and knickers before removing her bra. Her breath was caught in her chest, wondering if she had ever been quite as naked as she was in that moment. Oliver forced his eyes away from her breasts to take in the wreckage, his hands following in their path. His palms worked down her sides, his thumbs dragging over the pouchy skin of her belly, around to squeeze her bottom.

"My. Katie." Oliver bent to kiss her the top of her stomach. She closed her eyes, biting down on her lip to keep from crying at the tenderness of it. Arching her back, pushing her arse into his kneading hands, Katie let go of her insecurities.

"You can touch them," Katie said huskily.

Oliver looked at her, one corner of his mouth drawn up. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I know you want to." Katie arched her back again, pushing her breasts into his face.

"Mm." He cupped one breast in each hand. "You don't know how often I've thought of doing this."

"I think I have an idea." Katie giggled when Oliver gave her a look that was as disgruntled as a man with a raging erection could manage.

"Don't get cheeky." He rolled her nipples between his finger and thumb, causing a corresponding yearning to pool between her thighs. He did it again, ending with a slight tug, and Katie gasped. Her nipples felt oddly sensitive and numb at the same time.

"Maybe don't pull on them," Katie said, frowning.

"Like this?" He rolled them between his fingers again. "Or this?" he drew circles with his fingers, then tweaked the tips.

"Oh…" Fire gathered in her chest, burning a trail through her breasts, making them feel fuller, until milk began to spray from her nipples. "Oh! Oh, no!"

Oliver laughed. "That was unexpected."

Milk was dripping on his hands, which Katie pushed away. She reached for her bra, red staining her cheeks. Of all her many worries about post-pregnancy sex, it never even crossed her mind that Oliver playing with her breasts would stimulate her milk to let down. How stupid was she? And sticky. And wet. Droplets of perfectly body-temperature milk rolled down the underside of her breasts to pool on her stomach.

"What are you doing, lass?" Oliver wrapped his arms around her hips to keep her from moving.

"Covering up."

"Why?" He kissed her chest, nuzzled her breast, ran his tongue around the curve, gathering the milk before wrapping his lips around her nipple, and rolling it inside his mouth. Katie moaned, clutching his shoulders, pressing her hips against him.

"You're not crying over spilled milk, are you, lass?" Oliver asked with a shaky grin.

Katie laughed, and pulled his hair. "Shut it, you great ox!"

Laughter turned into something hotter and finer. Oliver took her other nipple in his mouth, sucking gently, his tongue abrading its tip. Katie's fingers ran through his hair, down the lines of his neck, clutching the muscles of his shoulders. It was hard to remember that she had ever been unsure of herself. Desire and pleasure overtook all her nerves, leaving her a trembling, moaning mass in Oliver's arms.

Sinking down on the mattress, Katie pulled Oliver over her—his weight so deliciously right—his muscular thigh between her spread legs, brushing against her most sensitive spot. Katie rubbed herself against him, needing more, loving the way his body made hers feel, and that nothing had changed about that. Oliver stopped what he was doing so he could watch her, his cock growing and straining against her thigh. One big hand ghosted down Katie's belly until it rested just above her golden pubic hair.

"Merlin," he whispered. "You're pretty."

Shifting so that his cock was firmly against her belly, his hand dipped between her thighs. His touch was soft, but not teasing. It was tentative, seeking permission, measuring pressure. It was his turn to be nervous. He needed to know that he was doing the right thing, that he wasn't going to hurt her. Katie wasn't so sure of that herself, but she wanted him.

She touched his face, and said, "Please."

Two things happened. Oliver growled, but his hand stilled. Restraint. Every muscle of his body was tense with the need for action and gentleness. Katie kissed him, her tongue playing against his, her hands stroking down his back to his arse. His fingers stroked her, teasing her entrance, through her wet crease, circling her clitoris. The pleasure was swelling inside Katie, just as it always did, reassuring and familiar and so, so good.

"More."

His fingers entered her with agonizing slowness, his eyes watching her face.

"Alright?" Oliver asked.

"Mm-hmm." Katie bit her lip, nodding her head.

Katie was beyond words, but Oliver must have heard something encouraging in her murmurs because his fingers curled and thrust into her. His thumb rubbed against her clitoris in ever more purposeful circles. Katie dug her heels into the mattress, her fingers clutching the muscles of his back. Her nipples were tight, her breasts felt heavy and needy, but Oliver never required encouragement to lavish attention there. He sucked on one nipple, and Katie came undone with arching screams and quivering bucks.

"Katie." Oliver was kissing her and saying her name, grasping each of her hips in his big hands. "Have you done the contraceptive charm, lass?"

Katie's eyes flew open. "No!"

Oliver grabbed her wand from the bedside table and placed it in her hand. "Maybe no more wee bairns for a bit?"

"One's enough for now," Katie agreed, and giggled with relief that he remembered to take care of her this time before performing the charm, then let her wand fall out of her hand so she could wrap her arms around her husband and pull him down for a kiss.

He grasped her hips again, dragging his tip along her cleft. "Ready?" he asked through clenched teeth.

One small hand drifted down his body until she could wrap her fingers around him, reveling in his groan, and guide him to the place she most wanted him. "Yes."

"Oh, Merlin," he breathed, his eyes fluttering shut, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tense with strain. He entered her with exquisite slowness, and Katie marveled at the ease, the last of her fears flying away. Without it, all she could concentrate on was the power of his body around and inside her, and the need to have him move.

"O-okay?" he asked.

"Yes." Katie shifted, taking more of him inside and eliciting another groan from Oliver. His fingers dug almost painfully into her hips, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Don't." He buried his face in her shoulder.

Katie hooked one leg over his hip, and thrust against him, earning a light slap on the arse.

"Lass," Oliver growled. "It's been more than six weeks, I'm trying not to lose my head here."

"It feels good?"

He growled. "So bloody good. Hot. And good. Just…don't."

She ran her fingers through his hair and over his shoulders. "I want you."

That seemed to do the trick because he moved. One small stroke against all the right places, and Katie met it with all her strength, moaning his name. Then they were flying. Moving together in a way that was instantly familiar, and still exciting. Skin to skin, clumsy touches, soft grunts and moans, building that incredible something inside of each other with each thrust until it broke. Leaving them both panting and coming gently back to earth and each other.

For a moment afterwards, Oliver collapsed into Katie. She clung to him, arms and legs, savoring the rare chance to bare his weight before he rolled onto his back and dragged her across his chest. They lay there for long moments, weak and sweaty.

Oliver trailed his fingers down her spine. "Are you…I didn't hurt you?"

Katie lifted her head off his chest, smiling. "Exactly the opposite, I promise."

"Good."

Minutes passed, Katie shifted to lie alongside Oliver, her head still nestled on his chest, and he cleaned them both with a handy spell. Darkness gathered in their room as they spoke softly of their family and Quidditch until minutes turned to hours. The next thing Katie knew, she woke to full night at the sounds of their baby's cries, and Oliver's hand was still on her hip. She smiled, stretched, content.