Chocolates

Chocolates

Ginny huffed as she watched the nameless man fall face down with a dull thud! Lifeless, as her husband gave a low, very amused laugh at what he had just done in front of her. Until she huffed again, louder, and stomped her foot brattishly on the hard marble tiles to get his attention. He faced her, wondering why she was disturbing this important moment, a jet-black eyebrow quirked up questionably. "What is it now?" he asked reluctantly so. "You don't want another batch of Belgian chocolate truffles, do you? Or worse, those blasted handmade sweets, specifically from Germany?"

"I can't believe you just did that, Tom!" she cried out suddenly, her hands gesturing here and there as though she did not know what to do with herself.

"Did what?" he said in a confused voice, frowning, until he realised what she was complaining about. "You can't believe I just killed him?" he questioned, his voice surprised. "He was an incompetent fool, who failed me far too much. I thought you liked watching me murder someone, my sweet?"

"Hmph! Our baby is not even out of my womb yet, and already you are killing in front of him," she grumbled loudly, folding her arms disgruntledly. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Tom, think what effects it could have on him!" she raved.

Tom closed his eyes, one hand resting his head as he shook it side to side in a bemused manner before walking toward her tense frame. "Ginny," he said appeasingly, taking hold of her shoulders, and levelling his eyes with hers, "are you losing your mind during this pregnancy of yours?" Her only response was to look at him angrily. "Although you do provide me with some entertainment, I need to tell you something that may shock you," he warned quietly, the dawnings of a smirk presiding on his lips, "the child can't actually see anything right now."

Ginny wriggled out of his grasp resentfully. "Stop talking to me like that!" she insisted dramatically. "I don't like it! You know I don't like it when you talk to me like that, Tom!"

"Like a child?" he said, taunting her as a smirk finally touched his lips. "But, my Ginny, you are acting like one."

"It is your fault," she accused, pointing her finger at him and jabbing him in the chest for each word she said.

"And how, tell me, did you come to that conclusion?" he chuckled, reaching to pat her on the head.

"You made me fall pregnant." She batted his hand away, and continued to frown, displeased. "And it makes me irrational. No, actually, you make me angry, which makes me irrational, which makes me blame it on the baby. So, all in all, everything is your fault."

Tom sat on his grand throne, his arms resting on the expensive, cold-looking platinum (no gold for Tom, he hated gold), a mocking smile playing on his lips. "I did not make you do anything, not literally," he said pointedly, brushing off a piece of dust from the lapel of his cloak boredly. "Is it my fault that your body decided to be abnormally fertile?" He looked up to see the indignant look in her eyes, and the fuming body language, but all he did was chuckle as she huffed again infuriatedly, and pat the space between his legs. "Come, come sit with me, my moody little wife-."

"I'm not being moody, Tom!" she shrieked, stomping both her feet loudly for a moment or two.

"- I know you like sitting with me up here," he continued, as if her outburst had not even happened at all. "You like people bowing before you, don't you? Of course, you do." He held out his hand for her to take hold of, a coaxing smile on his face. This always worked when she was being out of sorts. And, if that didn't work, he always had another little insurance....

Ginny pouted, then looked away snobbishly, her nose in the air. "No," she said shortly, her voice childish. "I'm not falling for that again. I know your tricks now, Tom, you can't fool me," she said with a triumphant smile on her face.

"Oh, Ginny..." he said in mock sadness. "I was going to feed you these absolutely wonderful Belgian chocolates, with your favourite chocolate buttercream inside the middle, but if you don't want them..." he said tantalisingly, "... then I will just have someone throw them away."

Ginny whimpered, her pout disappearing as she looked at the lavishly decorated, royal-blue coloured box that had just appeared in Tom's hand, and watched as he placed them on the small glass table beside him. She relaxed herself, consciously or unconsciously, Tom wasn't entirely sure, but she toddled over to him, her face mirroring that of a child who had just done something naughty, and wanted to be forgiven. "No," she whined softly. "Tom, I want them, don't throw them away."

He couldn't help but smile at the way she was behaving and held out his hand again, this time she took it without a trace of any reluctance or ire, it seemed that had been completely forgotten as she let him pull her onto his lap, her legs dangling over his left knee as though he were Santa Clause and she was the little girl sat upon his knee, eagerly awaiting her present. Tom even resisted the urge to say "Now, what could you want, little girl?" and reach behind him for an imaginary gift.

Still smiling, Tom lifted the square lid off the blue box, and took out one of the chocolates. "Open your mouth," he murmured. "Good girl." He placed the spherical-shaped chocolate onto her tongue, then touched his hand to her stomach, caressing her there as she gave a pleased giggle. He waited until she had finished the first before reaching for more. "Now, give me a kiss before I give you another," he said as he lifted her face to his. "It is only fair, my sweet." Ginny raised her hand to settle on his shoulder to lift herself slightly, then kissed him once on the lips before eagerly waiting for more. Tom popped another in her mouth as a reward, watching slightly voyeuristically as she gave a pleasurable sigh.

"Oh, Tommy..." she looked up at him wide-eyed as he didn't take out another chocolate from the out-of-reach box. "You forgot to give the baby one." She glanced down at her round stomach affectionately. "The baby wants one too."

"Oh, he does, does he? He told you this himself then?" he said, a handsome smile on his face. "I was always under the impression that babies couldn't talk, let alone in their mothers' womb, is this a new development?"

Ginny simply smiled, then opened her mouth expectantly, her eyes shut, until he didn't place one on her tongue for a few moments. "Tom," she groaned. "I want more! Why do you always tease me?" She was instantly silenced immediately as he pressed a finger to her peach-coloured lips.

"Hush, now," he muttered firmly. "No more until tomorrow, I don't want my child becoming a chocolate obsessed oddity, just because his mother had constant cravings for the stuff."

Ginny humphed once again that evening, and turned away from him with a frown. "It is not fair," then she noticed that nameless dead man on the floor again. "I cannot believe this, you have not even moved the body! Think what the baby would be going through if he could see that unsightly mess that you have made. It doesn't bear thinking about.... You need to get someone to move it before I become traumatised, Tom!"

Tom sighed as she continued to whinge, and rant, and reached for another chocolate, pushing it against her lips, until she opened her mouth readily, and squealed as soon as she bit into the hard exterior, and the soft, melted interior graced her tongue with its heavenly taste. He gave a smirk at how easily she could just forget something over Belgian chocolate and patted her stomach, deciding that he should probably put killing anyone off until the child was born or she would have fit, or some other dramatic thing just to have some more chocolates out of him.

"Great Merlin," he said quietly as she immersed herself in savouring the melted sweetness. "I can't wait for this monster to be out of her...."

The End