11 YEARS LATER

In all the years I had known James one thing I learned quickly was that he was a pain to be around when he was ill. It was rare for him to fall ill but when he did, he acted like a complete baby and wanted someone to take care of him the entire time. That was why I made it my resolution to avoid being left alone with him whenever he fell ill. But looking after an ill James was part of the terms and conditions that I agreed to when I became the newest Mrs Potter. I knew I should have read them first.

"Babe," a stuffy nosed James called out from our bed. This morning he insisted that he was fine but I'd bundled him up in every blanket we owned and confined him to our bed. But he still had the energy to shout loud enough for his voice to reach me downstairs.

"I'm coming," I called out before he could raise his voice even more. I couldn't have him waking Arthur up; I'd only just put him down for his nap.

Pouring the soup I had been working on into a mug I padded up the stairs and headed towards our bedroom, peering into Arthur's room to check on him as I did so. Pushing the bedroom door open with my hip I walked into the room to see James staring out of his blanket cocoon. Laying eyes on my face he sat up, wrestling with the blankets around him. He moved to take them off completely, stopping when he saw the look I was giving him. With a pout he relented and wrapped himself back up in the blankets and leaned against the headboard. I was going to sweat this cold out of him as soon as I could.

"Where were you?" he asked as I made my way to the bed. Perching on the edge of the bed, I put the mug of soup on the bedside table to let it cool a little more. "You weren't in bed when I woke up from my nap."

"Because I have things I need to do." I rolled my eyes at his pout, "Merlin James, just because you're ill doesn't mean that I'm going to spend the entire day in bed with you."

"You used to," he complained, leaning forward slightly to set his head against my shoulder.

I reached out to brush a hand through his hair, "That was before we had a two year old son."

"I guess," he agreed sleepily, smothering a yawn against my neck. I shifted slightly at the ticklish sensation.

"Before you go back to sleep you need to have some soup," I said gently, trying to break the news to him as gently as I could.

It didn't work. His eyes snapped open as if he hadn't been just moments away from falling asleep and he scrambled away from me, cocoon and all. Scuttling over to the other side of the bed he eyed me warily, eyes flickering over to the cooling mug of soup on the bedside table.

"I thought you loved me," he said with seriousness that wasn't necessary.

I tried to interrupt him, "James-"

"No," he was distraught, sneezing after the single word. I rolled my eyes. "I thought that you of all people, my wife, was supposed to love me!"

"And I do," I said gently, picking up the mug and walking towards him. He eyed the mug closely before looking back to the side of the bed I had previously occupied. He was considering rolling away again. "I do love you James, really, and that is why I want you to get better as soon as you can. The soup will help."

"That – that poison will not be able to help me with anything." He turned his head away from me.

"How can you call it poison James?" I sighed, "It's your grandmother's home recipe."

"Which tastes like shit." I closed the distance between us to smack the arm that had come free from the cocoon during his attempted escape. He whined, "What?"

"What have I told you about saying words like that in front of Arthur?"

"He's asleep!" James sniffled. "He can't hear me."

"You never know James." I rolled my eyes and sat down beside him, holding out the mug for him to take. When it became clear that doing so was the least of his plans, I cleared my throat, making him look in my direction. "I really didn't want to do this James but you need to drink this or else I'm calling in the cavalry."

"Babe," he protested but still reached out for the mug. "I'm a grown man, stop involving my mum in my business."

"Well then act like a grown man."

Realising that he wasn't going to get anywhere without drinking the soup he raised the mug to his lips and made a face before he'd even taken a sip. He looked at me over the rim of the mug and made a pleading face. I shook my head and James sighed, tipping the entire mug down his throat in one go. My mouth dropped open in shock when he handed the empty mug back to me.

"James," I looked down into the empty mug, "what the hell? The soup was hot – you've probably burnt your entire tongue."

"I'd rather than then taste the rubbish," he muttered making a face once he'd swallowed all of it. "But why don't you give me a kiss to make up for forcing me to drink it?"

The leaned forward before I could even answer. But I pressed my fingers against his mouth, stopping him from kissing me. He pulled back with a frown, coughing and reaching around me to get a tissue to blow his nose.

"You can kiss me when you're all better." He blew his nose harder, glaring at me slightly. Honestly.

"Fine." He relented and lied down on the bed again. Wrestling out of the blanket cocoon he gave me a look, daring me to say anything. When he was finally free of the blanket, he opened his arms. "Come here then, if I can't kiss you then let me hold you."

I rolled my eyes but went into his arms anyway. His arms tightened around me as he put his head on top of mine and closed his eyes for another nap. He was asleep within minutes and I smiled against his chest. He was such a bloody drama queen.

But he was my drama queen.