Weary from a long day of work, the crack of apparition was a welcome moment of exhalation. Appearing in the entrance way of his apartment, tension shot like a bullet pulling his shoulders tightly. Eyes alert, coughing from the smoke Harry pulled his wand, casting a Bubblehead charm and cautiously traversed to the center of the smoke. Arm taught, lethal spells at the ready, he was not prepared for Fleur to be coughing pulling out a tray of burnt something from the oven.
Tension releasing, he waved his wand like a conductor, dispelling the smoke as if it never existed.
"Evening love."
Fleur flinched hard. Turning to look over at him, belly only recently rounding with the child on the way.
"'Arry! You're home" Flustered, embarrassment radiated from Fleur.
"What's going on?"
"Zis petit cochon wanted your macarons. And you were not 'ere."
Harry didn't say anything. He just strode forwards pulling her into his arms and kissed her, passionately.
"I love you so much."
With his chin tucking her into his arms, the embarrassment fled, replaced with the safety and love he radiated.
"She still wants your macarons, mon amie."
The rumble of his laugh was delicious. She never got tired of how warm it made her feel.
"Ok. If he is going to be craving lots of macarons, I'm just going to have to show you how to make them."
Harry vanished the burnt macarons, reset the oven, cleared the counter top and summoned the necessary utensils and ingredients.
Gently, Harry turned her around to face the counter. He came in close, groin directly against her arse, breath heavy against her ear, and hands gliding from behind across their child to hover above her hands. Her breath hitched.
"First, we'll beat the egg whites in a bowl until they are white and foamy."
Following his directions was difficult. Having him whisper things into her ear whilst tilting to grab things made her painfully aware of just how close they were standing. It wasn't a position she usually had to think in.
When the egg whites were foamy, Harry leaned forwards capturing Fleur's earlobe in his mouth, scraping his teeth across them. Fleur moaned.
"'Arry."
Voice, deeper, and thick with arousal, Harry continued.
"Now you've got to mix in the confectioner's sugar until the mixture is at soft peaks."
Barely, able to focus, Harry's right hand took hold of her's from above, guiding the mixer.
She could feel it growing behind her in excitement too.
Without intending, her hips began to gyrate against him.
Growling, Harry continued.
"Gently, fold in the almond flour."
And then he was gone.
Fleur nearly cried, not sure whether she wanted him throw the bowl away and take her against the table or relieved that she could breath now.
"I'll pipe them into their shapes and then we'll have an hour to wait."
It took more than an hour for them to remember they had macarons to put in the oven.