Mister and Missus

The memories of their argument were still fresh and smarting. Never before had she felt so helpless in a single chain of moments thrown together to make up an evening. It had been one disaster after another and she could not find it within herself to take it upon herself to forgive him in the instant. It didn’t take her long, however. Yet it didn’t stop the hurt. Despite it all she was still hurt, her anger directed more at Avery and the gall the other blonde had to appear and to flit around, in genuine hurt or otherwise, the home in which Millie had no right to bar her from but every desire to do so. It was jealousy: no more, no less than that. No ring or scrap of paper or children could ever make Kieran wholly Millie’s – he could still yet leave.

Millie smiled a little despite herself and smoothed her fingers through Kieran’s hair, delving her fingertips into the dark locks that were in need of a trim. They danced down the side of his face and she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the slight tip of his nose.

“You’re not going to lose me, Kieran,” she swore, her hands draping down over his shoulders as her back touched the softness of the sheets. She smiled, parting her knees and moving her legs to wrap them around his torso. She leaned up, brushing her lips against his jaw and giggled as Kieran dipped his head to her chest, his mouth trailing across his collarbone as their fingers intertwined.

“Well I do like to see you prove yourself wrong,” she murmured as she wriggled beneath him, flexing into his touch. “You have no reason to be worried, you know. You’ll be brilliant. I know it.”

Millie watched, her heart soaring, as Kieran hovered over her stomach, talking to, really, no one at that moment in time. Yet, it felt as though they heard regardless of whether or not they had the ability to do so and while there were no flutters in response, Millie had a feeling that their babies knew regardless.

“See, not so scary…” Millie smiled, combing her fingers across his cheek. “I love you – even if I might have to kick your butt for this. It’ll be worth it in the end but boy-oh-boy… you’re in for it this time, Mr Hayes. Now c’mere and kiss me before someone decides it’s time to turn Christmas on full-blast. I want a moment alone with my husband.”

Keiran's eyes flashed to hers at her attempt to reassure them. She had too much faith in him, he decided silently even as his mind flicked to Millie's finding him in the library the day before. She had promised that he didn't need to change for anyone - even her and his family - but the ability to do so hadn't disappeared. Would children require that he grow to take care of all of the things they needed? Or that he shrink so he requested less of Millie's time? If she was to be believed, he needn't do either.

Just hearing the words "mum" and "dad" leave his mouth felt strange when referring to himself and his wife, but in a good way. It wasn't something he had grown up wanting, but now that it wasn't a choice - it was a fact - Keiran couldn't complain. It was as massively cliché as it was a fact that they were starting a new adventure in raising children. In having them.

He laughed at her warning, shrugging it off. "To say I expect as much would be an understatement," he teased, eyebrows raised in an attempt to feign seriousness. Yes, he knew there would be a lot coming his way in the next year or so, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about it. He rested his cheek against her stomach until she continued speaking, tilting his head to look at her from his slightly cramped position by the pillows.

Millie beckoned and Keiran couldn't help but do as she asked. "I'll tell you a secret," he murmured, voice full of amusement and clearly holding in the excitement of what he was going to tell her. "Mum hates starting Christmas at the crack of dawn. Says it's better to start at nine, after we've all got a good nap in." He chuckled, placing kisses along the path back to her lips, dropping them between his words.

"So we've got time."

The sun had only just come up if he was right, but Keiran wasn't about to look at the clock. If he didn't, it wouldn't be lying to say he didn't catch the time. He winked at her, a particularly Slytherin smirk rising on his lips before catching hers as requested. Drawing her hands up with his, he moved their connected fingers up next to her head to steady himself as he leaned into the kiss.

Things had been rather messy as of late, and though the Professor was naturally a tidy person, he wasn’t quite sure he could clean these things up on his own. Even knowing this, Keiran couldn’t bring himself to talk to Millie about it. Something was upsetting her, too, and he was loathe to irritate her further; Merlin knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere. As sickeningly cliché as the thought was, it was quite obvious that if Melissa were put out, Keiran’s life wouldn’t really go quite right. No, indeed, if Millie were put out, he would likely be put out on the couch just as easily.

They weren’t fighting, per se. No, Keiran didn’t want to frustrate her when she already had so much to deal with – the school, the twins, everything. So his silencing his thoughts would have to continue until she decided not to keep hers to herself, too. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to know what was bothering her. Instead, he didn’t want to trigger anything that would make it worse. After his previous adventures into the realm of prodding at Millie to learn what he wanted to, he knew that for now he would need to let her alone until she was ready.

If only the school hadn’t come between them.

That’s what she was upset about, right? If he had to guess, it was the first thing that came to mind. Millie had never suggested otherwise, but she also hadn’t outright mentioned the school, even on her most frustrated or tired days. Either that or she was worried about the babies for some reason, even after Keiran had made such a point to prove that he wasn’t going to panic on her like he had in the first few moments of being proven right. Keiran decided that the latter of the two options would scare him more in the end; if she were second-guessing his or her (or both, really) abilities as parents, he wasn’t sure how to ensure that she felt they were ready. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy children – he was a professor, for Merlin’s sake. No, he just had never been around particularly young children, and the knowledge that he could easily mess things up was prodding at him every day.

Melissa had told him not to worry about the twins, and had said that she felt he could handle it, but he wasn’t entirely sure. How could he push his way in once they were close to their mum? He had the school to worry about and was gone most of the day. Granted, the twins wouldn’t be around for a while, and Keiran openly hoped that things would be a bit more normal by then. But the point, though, was that he knew he wouldn’t be around enough if this kept up – or if he had to take some other job because the Ministry reprimanded him and made it difficult to find other work. At least, he wouldn’t be around enough for the children to really know him. How could he be a father to two people who didn’t even realize that was his role?

Classes having ended for the day, Keiran packed up his things as he went over, again, whether or not he should mention his fears to Millie. It had been on his mind since Christmas, and now that February had rolled around, he couldn’t really find time to mention it. If she wasn’t angry due to her hormones, she was always trying to find something to do with herself. The woman was truly unable to sit still, even now, and Keiran often found himself smiling after her as she left the room to go after her latest idea in the game of ‘Let’s Destroy Boredom.’ He needed to settle on a decision – to explain his fears or to keep them to himself.

Telling her meant admitting, as he had been forced to after Aiden’s death, that he really did play into the Slytherin stereotype of being fairly cowardly when faced with certain problems. But if he kept them in his own head, the problem of not being able to confront them became very real. Millie wouldn’t have to know, though, and it would leave her with less stress about the pregnancy. So wouldn’t that be worth it?

Yes, he decided, he would keep quiet about it. Always. No need to rehash the same argument with himself now that he had chosen.

Passing through the halls and towards the floo set to take him back home, Keiran said a few goodbyes and promised the redheaded Ivanov that Avery would indeed be coming by that night. When had his best friend – for she was, in his mind, even if things were still a bit rocky – become a mother to so many? It was actually massively heartwarming, considering her and Robin getting along again. That and the fact that she was (like far too many others) expecting a baby. Yes, they had finally told him about a week ago, when it was becoming too obvious to hide it. Keiran had felt a bit disappointed that they didn’t want to tell him, but then, they hadn’t really told very many people at all, it seemed. How strange it would be for the Professors, Keiran mused vaguely, when one year had so many more students than the last.

Shaking the thought from his head, the Hayes son stepped into the floo and flashed from the Krum Manor and back to his flat. Bridget, bless her heart, had practically begged Keiran to take Millie back to his. She’d said their living with her stifled their relationship. While he wasn’t entirely sure if she was right or not, he had done as she asked, promising to bring Millie back towards the end of the pregnancy so she would be looked after properly should he still be teaching. He had wondered, at the time, if Bridget had perhaps been tired of Lucy and Cissa cats popping up at strange times to steal her food. Or tired of his and Millie’s curling up on the couch together when Aiden wasn’t around to do so with her anymore. His feet landed gently, wondering after how she and Elliot were doing on their own – probably rather well. Ell had been over now and then to talk to Millie about some business he had been considering, so perhaps his job hunt would be over, and he could feel like he was contributing to Bridget’s household. The man truly seemed like he wanted to do so, and Keiran had to admit he respected him for it (and for Elliot’s decision not to murder Keiran for getting the man’s sister pregnant).

“Millie, love,” he called as he stepped from the hearth and brushed off the remaining soot. “I’m home.”

He nearly added a question about whether or not she was doing all right that day, but supposed he would just wait to find out for himself when he saw her. Where was she, anyway? Keiran set his coat and briefcase (yes, he’d gone and purchased on when he started teaching at Hogwarts, regardless of how much Avery had made fun of him for it) down on the floor next to the couch before making his way into the next room.

The crunch of frozen grass underfoot was an oddly reassuring feeling on that chilly February afternoon. The sound of cars bleating past on the roads and the holler of a gig going on in the middle of the park mingled in the air to make for a world alive with frenzied activity, a world whose fringes Melissa Hayes stood upon without being able to perceive any sure way of gaining entrance. Her life had been conducted thus far without a handbook or a prescribed way of getting along well. Without those defining laws to protect and aid her she’d always had to land on the only two feet she could allow herself to depend upon: her own. She revelled in the awry – it was the calm and congenial she loathed and it was the calm and congenial that she had been stuffed into, held as willing prisoner in a flat, pregnant, with little to do but twiddle her thumbs and amuse her brother.

The band was electric, their songs thrumming through the air with wild abandon. It was as though it created its own heat, slicing through the still world that was silent and ever watching yet unwilling to interact with their hearts. With her hands in the pockets of her dark green bomber jacket and her dirty blonde hair pulled up onto the crown of her head, Millie could have slid into the crowd and matched each audience member with her adoration of music so raw and so very much the product of a life not unlike her own. Yet, the protrusion in front of her was the dividing line and suspended her between her teenage years and the painful reality of adulthood. She was ostracised and none of it of her own doing.

“Marlboro.”

Millie turned, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline as a man stepped up beside her. A half smile decorate his mouth and Millie found herself mirroring the expression. She nodded despite herself and the other side of his mouth lifted, revelling in his correct assessment. He took his hand from his pocket and held it out to her, Millie took her own hand out from the warmth of her pocket and allowed it to clasp in his.

“Marlboro Millie.”

“Pall Mall Jack.”

Millie laughed and released her hand from his, tucking it back into her pocket, shaking her head before turning her gaze back to the stage. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as Pall Mall Jack fiddled with a camera hanging from a strap around his neck. It wasn’t one of the new ones the Muggles loved to indulge themselves in. Rather, it was fairly archaic and looked as though it still used film. Part of her wanted to express that she had one like it but she felt robbed of her ability to communicate for a few moments. Besides family and friends, strangers hadn’t exactly been eager to talk to her and she them. Pall Mall Jack was the first person to speak to her. For just a moment, she felt less alone.

“You don’t smoke anymore, I take it?” Jack inquired after a moment, looking up from the camera. His eyes fell to her stomach and Millie shifted awkwardly, almost wanting to cover herself away from his prying eyes.

“No,” she replied stiffly, zipping up her coat. “I don’t.”

Jack chuckled a little as she turned her head away and Millie flicked her gaze back immediately when she heard the click of the camera. Her eyebrows furrowed over her blazing blue gaze and for a moment Jack had the grace to look apologetic before grinning wickedly at her.

“Got you.” He teased. “It’s for a photography coursework project.”

“What’s that?” Millie queried.

Jack took a second photograph and she scowled, only earning another for her trouble.

“Do you mind?” Millie spluttered indignantly.

“I don’t, actually,” Jack replied airily. “I’ll give you the proofs if you like, kitten. I go to the local college. Photography, English Lit, Maths and Art.”

Millie nodded slowly. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Yeah, loads. Do you go there?” Millie shook her head. “You should apply.”

That afternoon was spent with Pall Mall Jack. The walk up to the college was a brisk, chilly one but they stopped often, Jack eagerly showing her how to properly use the camera beyond just clicking the button. They reached the college just after two o’clock and gathered up the papers and prospectuses for her to peruse. Then she was taken off to one of the cafes nearby where Jack happily introduced her to his friends. Tina, Helen, Mark, Will … the list went on. Then, before she knew it, the day was over and she expressed her need to depart – an exit that was complained after but allowed so long as Jack could walk her back.

“Good day?” He asked finally, after a few minutes of silence in the cold, late afternoon air. “Today, I mean. You’ve enjoyed yourself?”

Millie nodded. “Yeah. Best time I’ve had in a long while,” she told him, smiling.

“Have you been to the local art gallery? It’s got some modernist stuff in there at the moment but the day after tomorrow the Romanticist pieces the Tate has been hoarding is finally getting here so… do you wanna go?”
“I don’t look like I enjoy modern art?” She inquired with a smirk, looping her arm around his.

Jack chuckled. “You don’t look like a woman who paints like a modern artist. I think you’re a watercolours kind of girl.”

“My cigarettes and my paint – you’ve got a guessing brain on you,” Millie smirked.

“The stain gave it away,” Jack teased, flicking the collar of her shirt. “Repetitive spillage.”

“And that,” Millie poked his stomach, her finger touching at the stain on his shirt, “looks like oils, to me.”

“And papier-mâché,” Jack laughed, lifting his jacket up to show her the mark on the sleeve.

“Oh, of course!” Millie scoffed playfully. “And what’s that, clay?”

“Correct, mon ami.” Jack grinned before looking up to the building they’d come to a stop in front of. “This you?”

“This is me,” Millie sighed. “So, the gallery… day after tomorrow.”

“Thursday.” Jack nodded. “Shall I come and get you here? I’ll have my brother’s car by then so we don’t need to walk.”

“Sure,” Millie smiled. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

Then, as soon as she stepped over the threshold and made her way back up to the flat, the world changed and dimmed ever so slightly. She unzipped herself from her coat when she entered the flat, hung it up and then moved into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Part of her wished she’d invited Jack up to have tea with her. She didn’t want anything to come of it and certainly had her suspicions that he did but he was vivacious and raw and so much like herself that she felt like Millie Finnigan again. Those hours she’d spent talking about art and music and movies with Jack and his friends were hours she’d covet until Thursday called and they could romp around the gallery together. Real company was all she desired, truly. Jack seemed real.

Taking the sheets that they’d gotten from the college out of her bag, Millie smoothed them out and set them down on the kitchen table, going to fetch her tea before taking a seat and perusing what she had in front of her. She knew she wanted to take art and literature, also, but she didn’t have the foggiest about what she was going to do with her other two options. She supposed classics and perhaps history but it was those that she found herself stuck on, her mind berating her for not taking Jack’s number. His advice would have been invaluable, she realised.

By the time her tea had gotten cold, Millie had begun to fill out the forms and it wasn’t long after that when the fireplace began to wiggle and evidence of a new presence about to arrive brightened her a little. She mentally struck off a list of people she knew it couldn’t be. There was only one person: Keiran. It had to be Keiran.

Those hours that afternoon had taken her mind off of all of the angst that was whirling around inside of her. Being out in the open air then to be surrounded by the smell of toasting sandwiches and freshly brewed coffee had livened her exponentially. New faces had helped. New faces that actually cared, or appeared to. They never once looked at her as an oddity, either. The bump hadn’t mattered and her worries and concerned surrounding her children had abandoned her also. Basking in the thoughts about joining the college, about giving herself a better chance, had distracted her also. However, the return of her husband had simultaneously left her cold and happy. With him, the distraction waned and her anxiety returned but she was no less happy to see him.

Millie stuffed the letters behind the crock pot with all of the other bits of post they’d gotten and tipped her tea down the sink, washing the cup out quickly before placing it on the draining board.

“How was your day?” She inquired, leaving the kitchen, meeting him half way. Her mind quickly addressed the differences between them. A fuller figure had allowed for bohemia to return to her with baggy trousers and an old top that Trent had gotten for her years ago. Conversely, her husband was suited and booted – robes and all – in a manner not unlike the way he’d been at Hogwarts. Part of her was sure, however, that Elijah turned up to do his classes in his pyjamas or trackie bottoms and a t-shirt. They were very different, she realised, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t work. On the contrary, she had faith they would.

A change of pace had certainly brightened her persona. As much as she adored her brother she was sick of seeing him. She loathed the flat and the way it seemed to ensnare and coop her up. Freedom to be amongst those her age and to enjoy things that were meant for her for once… it was liberating. So, she looked upon Keiran with a genuine smile, brighter than any she’d mustered in a while… yet, there was something about him that seemed troubled – something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Whatever it was, she was sure they’d be able to work it out. She was sure they could do anything.

Keiran didn't realize how stiffly he had been standing all day until he noted how relaxed Millie appeared to be. Not that he was complaining or anything, but wasn't she a bit more chipper than usual? What had changed? He couldn't pick anything out about the day itself being important, but maybe he had missed something. Shucking off his robes, he allowed his shoulders to relax for what felt like the first time that day. He surely was aging more quickly due to this school and worrying after Millie. But then, Keiran had always been a bit of a worrier when it came to the people he loved.

Her voice came from the kitchen originally, but he saw no sign of her having made herself something to munch on or sip. Instead, she was empty handed but grinning broadly. When asked about his day, Keiran wanted to groan. "It was a slow one. Felt like ages. Perhaps I should've stayed with you; your day seems to have gone far better."

Midway through his reply, Keiran reached her, a hand brushing her hair back from her eyes. He shouldn't have suggested taking off, because he became massively tempted in that instant to do so the next day. But if he didn't show up and the Ministry decided to pop in, he would never forgive himself. The school had been his idea, and he was willing to take the fall if the Ministry got mad.

"So," he began, wrapping his arms around to set his hands at the small of her back. "What was on the agenda for you, today? You seem happier than you've been in ages."

Keiran struggled to keep the last bit from being obviously self-depricating, aiming instead for being glad of the change he saw. And indeed he was glad, even if he was also angry with himself for not having been able to produce such a smile from her in far too long. He had missed it. How sad was it when he couldn't even get his wife to smile at him like that anymore? Something or someone else had done this and while he couldn't dislike them for it, he very much wanted to know what or who had managed it. His school just seemed to be causing more and more trouble for him and Millie.

He couldn't abandon it, though, when those kids needed him. Keiran was fairly certain that Millie wouldn't have wanted him to leave it, but he couldn't offer up the choice.

His fingers unconsciously curled into her back over and over as if they could massage away any potential pain that the twins might be causing. Not that they meant to, obviously. Keiran's eyes tracked along her face in an attempt to read her, but her smile had him just wanting to kiss her, set her on the couch to relax, and then make her dinner. It didn't matter that he was the one who had gone through a rough day. She was far too pleased for him to want to ruin it, and most days her frustration could almost definitely be pinned on him. He resolved to trick her into letting him cook if he had to, a small, secret smile breaking out across his face.

Leaning in, Keiran brushed her nose with his before trailing kisses up her jaw to her ear. "Let's get you settled, hmm?" He asked, palms trailing up to her shoulder blades and back to her waist. "Then you can tell me all about your day while I get dinner going." He pulled back to assess her reaction, hoping she would go along with it - after all, she had once asked to keep Breakfast, and Keiran had agreed provided she would allow him Dinners sometimes.

Millie grinned impishly, enveloping herself happily into Keiran’s embrace. A day’s mischief aside, she was eternally glad to see her husband again. The long days, though to the benefit of the segregated Half-Breeds, did nothing for their relationship. Whilst there was no open animosity or awkwardness, no one was content. They got away with avoiding the oncoming deterioration due to mutual weariness. Her days were slow and repetitively boring, ensuring her fatigue by the end of the day. His were varied and exciting, she was sure, and that took a bodily toll. They didn’t have to talk much as a result and if they made it to bed before one or both of them fell asleep then it was a small miracle indeed.

“Maybe we should swap sometimes,” Millie joked, knowing it would never be allowed. “I’m sure it’s not as dull as you like to make out.”

The most amusing part of her confinement of sorts, according to Elliot, was Millie’s sudden ability to spend money like she’d never done before. What he found most amusing of all was that she wasn’t touching what wasn’t hers. She’d emptied the majority of what she’d gathered over the years, buying silly things or exciting things or going out for lunch with Baldric because he had far too much time on his hands. Then of course, spoiling the babies and Gisele and … well, it was something to do, wasn’t it? Her latest purchase had been a Friday affair which was an old record player which she’d spent the weekend fiddling with. It was definitely a distraction when she tasked herself with unloading the dishwasher – though she didn’t think the neighbours approved.

“Dinner, Mr Hayes?” Millie laughed. “Are you sure? I don’t have a problem with doing it, love.”

Of course, Millie knew she wasn’t going to win. Between breakfast and dinner she’d stomached some croissants and a large mug of hot chocolate. She was definitely in the mood for something more substantial. She was certainly glad for the croissants and the hot drink, though. Elliot’s penchant for dropping in for lunch if he was idle often resulted in sandwiches which he was never too terrific at making. It was certainly nice to let someone else cater. Hence, she wasn’t too put off by the idea of Keiran cooking so long as the flat didn’t burn. Actually, on second thoughts… let it burn. A half-smile rattled over her features at that particular thought and she cleared her throat, sobering her expression before following Keiran into the kitchen.

“I was in the park today and there was this gig on… it was one of those bands from, like, a lifetime ago. The same ilk as those that used to play in The Flayed Prisoner. I suppose they still do. But yeah, it was really nice… great music. I met this guy there, too.”

Millie took a carton of apple juice out of the fridge before reaching up to get a glass from the cupboard. After pouring herself a glass she replaced the juice back in the fridge and took a beer out for Keiran. After taking the cap off and dropping it into the bin she returned to her glass and took a sip before continuing her tale.

“Uh, Jack. He goes to the college nearby. I met some of his friends and it was really nice. A good change of pace.” Millie set her glass down. “He’s nice. They were all nice, actually. The plan is to go to the gallery on Thursday and I’m really looking forward to it.” Millie smiled to herself.

As disjointed as her account was, Millie found a spring in her step as she thought about visiting the gallery. She considered going after her paints later on, or perhaps in the morning. Perhaps she’d even go into the arts shop in town and get some canvas and then perhaps she’d be able to fill her days that way, doing what she loved.

“Your babies enjoyed their day out today, too,” Millie added after a moment, her hands coming around her stomach, looking upon it with a fond eye. “Wrigglers, the pair of them.”

“Think what you like, love,” Keiran remarked lightly, “but you’ll not be going to the school any time soon. Not with the potential of Ministry coming in, and with the twins and all.”

Just as he was beginning to put forth an effort to convince her that he could manage to take care of dinner, Millie began explaining how her day had gone. A stupid shot of jealousy hit when she started on about how she had met some guy and planned on seeing him again. Keiran knew he couldn’t begrudge her friends, even as he wanted to comment on it. Instead, he tossed his most calm and reassuring smile over his shoulder as he fiddled with ingredients and the like. “Sounds like your day was pretty eventful, then,” he mused aloud.

When the twins were mentioned, Keiran’s twinge of annoyance lifted away, knowing full well that it was pointless to worry when they had both spent so long proving that they were serious about each other. A warm smile reached his eyes, the cooking abandoned momentarily as he crossed the kitchen to take a drink of the beer and set it down on the table behind Millie. His hands reached to cover her own, leaning down to settle his forehead against hers.

He didn’t say anything for a time, eyes closed and breathing gentle. When he moved again, it was to bring his fingers up to comb through her hair as he pressed a kiss between her eyebrows. “I’m glad you found some things to do. I hate leaving you alone.”

Chiding himself silently, Keiran wanted to offer that he let Krum or the Rookwood take over for him, but a part of him felt like Millie would just see that as cowardice or a betrayal of her friends who needed him. To some extent, anyway. At the same time, he wondered if a part of him needed the kids just as much. They had instilled in him a sense of purpose that had been lost with the death of his father and all of the changes that the Ministry forced upon their community.

“It’s good, though,” he mumbled. “Doing this, I mean. I think it is.” Pulling back, Keiran let his hands fall to rest on her shoulders. As his thumb brushed over her collarbone and against her neck, he offered another small smile. Suddenly, he lost all desire to return to school the next morning. Perhaps he could convince Robin to take on a morning class and just sleep in. Sure, tomorrow was the middle of the week, but the Slytheirn had yet to even attempt to take a day off. Call it ambition or whatever you may, he felt it gave him the right to a simple morning for himself; after lunch he could easily return without complaint.

Catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, Keiran stole a brief kiss before brushing his thumb over her lower lip. “I’m going to send a letter to Robin after dinner, asking him to fill in for me in the morning. No early night for me today, love. We need time to just be. We can do whatever you want.”

Kant said that when he view art, we are disinterested from it. That wasn’t to say we aren’t or weren’t or won’t be interested in the art we see. What he meant was that when we view it, there’s distance between us and the art. We’d never be as close to it as the artist and the art, in that sense. And though we’d enjoy contemplating it and the meaning and the beautiful harmony of the piece, we’d never fully understand. We could stare forever from our perch but we’d still never fully grasp what it meant to construct the item and really feel the soul of the piece. Melissa Hayes supposed that it was the same for human beings and marrying one was the same as having a painting on your wall. The person was always there, the soul laid bare, but having it near made it no less difficult to read and comprehend. So contemplation was all there was to even begin to try to understand.

There was a disinterested air between the couple that evening. They weren’t not interested in each other but there was a distance there between them. It had been created with the hustle and bustle of the school. It had always been there in the age betwixt them. It was there in the sense that they had never really just sat and gotten to know each other, properly. They both understood that they loved the person before them. But what they both failed in was understanding what made the harmony of the other person so beautiful to them. They didn’t truly understand what made the other person tick, though both would give a good old guess to try and net down exactly what it was. But neither was quite there yet. A night together and a subsequent morning was what they needed. Keiran was right. They needed to just be.

Millie smiled softly, bringing her hands up to touch at Keiran’s side. With him near, she let the resentment slip away as she came quickly to appreciate that despite the insatiable fatigue he must have felt heavy in his bones, he was eager to make dinner and to take a night and a morning and make it about them. Millie seemed to differ him in every way lately. The twins wanted her up and active so she would devote more time than ever to painting by candlelight in the dining room. Whilst Keiran, overcome by his long days, would burrow far deeper into the mattress of their bed than she ever did. She would slide into bed as best she could once the twins settled themselves, finished dancing or whatever it was they delighted in doing to keep her awake, and more or less as soon as she laid down to sleep, it felt as though Keiran got up. It was no wonder, really, that Kant’s disinterest had formed.

What irked Millie more than anything else was that she saw more of Elijah than she did her own husband and it was in the former’s house that they all spent their time. She was excluded almost completely out of hand and it seemed as though people took turns to check in on her to see if she was sufficiently trussed up in the house, bored out of her mind and looking for someone to hex. Elijah, she was sure, had to go to Theodore on more than one occasion to get a tail or some antlers removed when her temper got the best of her and Elliot suffered just as much. Theodore’s presence in her home – the most grating of all considering he was supposed to do be doing a lot of the work, too – was a little more tolerable occasionally because he did bring food and encouraged her to cook for him. He kept her busy whereas the others sat around – the action was at the school, after all.

“I’ve missed you,” Millie expressed honestly, curling her fingers into Keiran’s shirt, hanging on as though in letting him go she’d lose him entirely.

She didn’t want to be clingy. If anything else, she knew just how problematic that could become but she genuinely wanted Keiran to stay. She wanted to tell him to stop being the Gryffindor. She wanted to be the selfish Slytherin and make him stay. She didn’t care about the Half-Breeds. The Ministry could have them all, for all she cared. All she wanted was her husband. But of course, she knew her error in thinking like that. It didn’t stop her from considering it but she did understand it was wrong. He wanted to help and she had to honour that wish. She almost wished, in that case, that she could just go back and live with Bridget again – if only for decent company. But really, it was either she lamented the Half-Breeds or she knew she’d grow upset about the babies and that wasn’t something she wanted. She wanted her children but she wanted to be a part of the bigger picture, too. She was sick of the periphery and she didn’t know what to do with herself. What was there to do?

“Can we just sit and, I dunno…” Millie, now faced with ten hours or more with her husband, truly didn’t know what she wanted. More energy than not went into wondering after how her day would be better with him. Now that she could have him, Millie wasn’t sure what to say or do. She managed a restless smile, instead, and a shrug of her shoulders. “Talk?” She finished, finally, almost lamely.

Keiran couldn’t quite help how pleased he felt at her admission of having missed him, even as he returned the sentiment quietly, expression serious regardless of his desire to offer a smile. He was entirely serious about his feeling like he hadn’t seen in her ages, though he had seen her just last night as they ate dinner – though, admittedly, he had abandoned his attempt to stay awake with the knowledge that he had yet another early morning ahead of him. The kids needed him, but Robin could handle one Transfiguration lesson. Or if he couldn’t, he could trick Avery into holding it, regardless of her distaste for teaching when she could be at the Ministry and keeping an eye out for them. The blonde had pointed out on more than one occasion, to Keiran or Robin alike, that she wouldn’t dare try and stick her nose into the school when the only job she could have done – teaching some sort of magical creatures course – could be done better by Jack Dyllan. Keiran couldn’t tell if that was Avery’s way of saying that she wished she could do more, or if she were just being honest and happened to come off that way.

“Tell you what, Missie,” he started, reluctant to return to his cooking now that she had latched onto his shirt. It wasn’t lost on him that he hadn’t used that name for her in far too long; a sarcastic part of his mind suggested that perhaps she didn’t like it and was glad he hadn’t used it lately. “I can do you one better.”

Pulling away slowly, he returned to his work on the kitchen counter, tossing a grin over his shoulder. “What’s your opinion on a night of pointless games and chatting? We could make it a contest, if you like," he added with a teasing wink. "I can’t remember doing that before; maybe with a more relaxed night we can pretend like nothing’s changed for a while. Just go back to those days at Hogwarts, in my rooms.”

A rather knowing smile broke out over his face, quickly turning into a smirk as he thought back to those days and what exactly they had used their time for. He certainly hadn’t gotten much grading done. At the rate he was going, the professor had been on his way to being fired, surely, even if he hadn’t left. Keiran found that he missed just laying around and wasting the day. Millie had brought that desire back around when she moved in, reminding him that Saturdays were generally used for such things. He couldn't help but notice that his last free Saturday had been over their Christmas Break, a good two months ago.

“Also, pasta? Or something lighter?” Keiran added belatedly, tossing another glance in her direction.

Keiran was quick to worry after her eating habits, as he always had been to some extent. With her strange preferences and changing opinions due to the twins, though, Keiran was loathe to make something without checking that once it were finished, Millie would actually be interested in consuming it.

The flat didn’t have many hiding spots but if she tied Keiran up and emptied the wardrobe, the space left behind would be human sized enough to keep him hostage in. She was tempted. Merlin she was tempted. But, for the greater good, she’d put the rope away and keep the wardrobe full of their clothes. He had to do what he had to do. She came second to the school and she didn’t mind, really. There were higher and more important things at work but it still left her irate sometimes (all the time) but she tried to understand and keep an open mind. She knew what pressure Keiran was under. When he came home, he didn’t want to hear about how she’d spent all morning bored out of her mind only to hex whichever poor sod walked in through the front door first. He didn’t need it. Thankfully, he didn’t bring it up, either. Part of her hoped that every time Elijah return to the school with a literal tail between his legs and antlers on his head, Keiran smirked at his wife’s unorthodox Transfiguration ability. She doubted he had the time, though.

That night, Millie knew she’d be Keiran’s shadow. Her feet moved behind him of their own accord and she slipped her arms around his middle as best she could. The bump got in the way and she laughed a little, feeling rather ludicrous. She rested her head against his back, anyway, and snuggled close, listening attentively to him. She was, however, as ever distracted by the wriggling goings on inside of her. The midwife had informed her that there was still plenty and would continue to be plenty of room for the twins within the coming weeks. After that, they’d begin to run out of room quite quickly as they grew and there was an informal agreement that around that time they would start to think about inducing her. She was excited, to say the least, and in between hexing Elijah she’d begun to talk to him about painting the nursery. Only, she didn’t want to bring up the babies in a flat – that was the only thing.

“You just being here is better than anything,” she murmured, pressing a kiss into his shoulder blade. “But that sounds really good.”

She smirked a little at his comment about the rooms. She could certainly recall what their nightly activities were and she would concede that it wasn’t totally (or often at all) Keiran’s fault. There was something about the Professor vs. the Gryffindor tie that just set them on fire. They were insatiable in those rooms, out of those rooms, and all around the castle if Millie got her way – an often she did – it felt like a lifetime ago, now. Still, the memories were sharp in her mind and she couldn’t help but laugh a little bit from behind Keiran. She rubbed her fingers across his stomach, sliding her fingertips in through the gaps in his shirt to tickle at his skin. Another kiss was slid against his back and Millie closed her eyes, winding her arms more tightly around him, revelling in her proximity to him.

“Pasta is perfect, thank you,” Millie murmured, squeezing Keiran once before releasing her arms from around him. “Can I help you, love?”

There was harmony in them. Regardless of whether he wanted the help or not, Millie took a pot out from one of the cupboards and filled with water. She salted it and set it on the hob, turning the gas on before going in search of some pasta. She didn’t know what he had in mind but they kept the cupboards well stocked. She took out the one Keiran preferred above all and smiled to herself before going in search of a set of scales to weigh it out. Bending was beginning to become an issue now. She didn’t know whether to squat or not or do something else entirely. She paused, her hand on the countertop as she looked down at the cupboard. The scales, despite the frequency of their use, were right at the back and no longer could she boast yoga master style flexibility.

“Kieran-love,” Millie broached, looking up from the cupboard. “Can you reach down there, do you think?” Millie’s spare hand came to rest over her stomach, her fingers reaching around absently to prod back at the probing foot. She got another sharp kick for punishment and she gasped briefly, closing her eyes for a second or two before reopening them and flitting her gaze over to her husband. She held out her hand and took his as he neared her, bringing it round to feel where one foot was while her other hand searched for another.

“It’s usually an indication that they want some music on,” she explained gently. “I did it once out of anger. I thought if they were going to be so frustrating then they could have something to wiggle to. Turns out, they really like Simply Red.” Millie smiled brightly and laughed a little before prodding at her husband. “C’mon, get me the scales. I’m starving.”