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Matilda/John
"Now, I've owled your boss and told him that you won't be in until at least Tuesday, but I made sure to note that the healer said it was tentative at best..."

"Matilda."

"And I've told the house-elf that they're not to bother you with anything, to come to me first or they'll end up like the Black's elves--"

"Matilda..."

"Oh, and I just flooed your mother, and I told her that---"

"Matilda."

Her hands stopped fussing with the pillow behind John's back and she looked up and caught her husband's eye. His eyebrows were high in amusement and she faltered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"What?" she asked softly, hand absentmindedly going to his thigh, "Are you feeling okay? I can get---"

"You don't have to do all this," John interrupted, and Matilda blushed as he took her hand.

"But I want to, I'm supposed to take care of you," she muttered, pulling herself further onto the bed at John's request (or tugging, whatever it might be). She nestled into his chest, trying not to press too hard against him though it was terribly hard. Matilda jumped slightly as she felt his lips graze her ear, and she squirmed to get a look up at him, mouth twisting into a smirk at John's wicked grin. Matilda scoffed, but didn't push him away.

"You are terribly injured, this is no time for---fun and---games---" she argued between kisses.

"But you're supposed to take care of me."