Mister and Missus

His smile grew at the sound of her laugh just as much as the feel of it against his back. It had been far too long since they had just stood around in the kitchen and had a laugh. He turned his head to try and glance at her over his shoulder, but found himself distracted by her wandering fingers and warmth. “If you want to,” Keiran offered vaguely, knowing full well that she would do so regardless of his reply. He had briefly considered saying no, just to see what she would do; she had already started about with the preparations, though, so he just let her have after it.

He glanced over and saw her staring at the cupboard in front of her, his eyebrow lifting in silent question. Just as he had decided to back to making the sauce, her voice reached him again, Keiran’s head immediately turning to see her waiting for him. “Of course,” he began, surprised when she settled her hand on her stomach and she seemed to almost wince. “Millie, are-“

Her hand took up his, pulling it round to her front so his arms wrapped around her as Millie had done previously. A bit of pressure met his hand, and Keiran’s hold on Millie tightened. Kissing the place where her shoulder met her neck, he smiled against her skin. “Wrigglers, indeed,” he replied, thumbs brushing over her middle before he knelt down and pulled out the scales as requested.

As soon as Keiran had the sauce going and the pasta set in the pot, he passed Millie a secretive smile before wandering into the hall of the flat and digging out the multitude of board games that he had snuck out of his mum’s house when she wasn’t looking. He had wondered briefly if Elliot or his mum would notice, but then decided that this was a prime example of why and Melissa needed them more. Why they had a right to steal them.

Dumping the boxes on the floor in the living room, he set about gathering pillows and blankets and things, not wanting Millie to be stuck on the floor, even if the game were set on the coffee table. Making a sort of nest out of the things he gathered, Keiran looked down at his strange little bed of pillows and blankets before smiling and heading back into the kitchen. He hadn’t felt so awake in days; just knowing that he and Millie had all sorts of time excited him. His arms twined around her again, interrupting her stirring as he stepped between her and the counter.

“You, my darling,” Keiran paused to cover her lips with his own, briefly, “need to relax.” His fingers ran back and forth over the curve of her spine, taking a few steps backwards towards the living room and tugging her along with him. When they reached the next room, he gestured towards the nest he had set up. “It might just be the most comfortable thing ever. You should find out while I plate everything.”

For the first time since the Educational Decrees had been announced and steps had been taken to change the way fate was turning for the Half-Breeds, Millie felt at peace. The Ministry had driven a wedge through them in many ways and just being with her husband, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t disappear to bed and that they’d actually have an evening together properly, was putting harmony back into her soul. She hadn’t realised just how much she needed her husband. While she had an inkling, she didn’t realise how he kept her axis spinning properly. She needed him to keep her level. She just hoped she provided that same reassurance for Keiran himself.

His hands around her were electric, setting gooseflesh off in her skin. She leaned eagerly into his embrace, her hands looping around to cover his, and she mourned the loss of him when he disappeared from her side to fetch the scales. She smiled brightly at him once the scales were set on the table and reached up on her tip toes to steal a kiss from him in thanks. She measured out the pasta and moved back over to her husband. She set down the scales tray and smiled at him, watching him contentedly as he began the sauce and put the pasta into the lightly bubbling water in the pan that had been on the hob for a while. She was always happy to watch him cook and more than content to let him do it though she did prefer to do things herself – it had rather become her kitchen.

Mischief in his eyes, Keiran left the kitchen and Millie remained by the stove, stirring the sauce gently while keeping an ever watchful eye on the pasta. When Keiran returned, however, her buoyancy returned and she resumed her place in his arms, her own tucking around his waist, her fingers curling around his belt loops. She responded immediately to his kiss, her eyes sliding shut for a moment, her lips coming together in a pout when he pulled away. She wanted to object that she did nothing but relax but she found herself following after him regardless. She laughed a little when she caught sight of the nest and released him to go and investigate as indicated.

“Meow!”

Millie looked up as she settled herself down to find Lucius stood on the arm of the couch. She held out her arms and the cat jumped off, landing on her shoulder before dropping down behind her, settling himself on the cushions by her bum. Millie shook her head and crossed her legs under her, her hands coming instinctively around her middle. The cat’s purrs from behind her were sweet and contented, proving that Keiran was quite right: it was the most comfortable place in the world. Soon enough, food and her husband joined her, the babies and the cat and Lucius meowed again when he caught sight of Keiran, the cat almost as eager to see Keiran as Millie was.

“What do you want to play first?” She inquired with a grin, gesturing to the board games.

Sinking into the collection of fluff he had organized, Keiran offered Millie her plate as he stole another kiss. It almost felt like that first day when things started to feel different. Keiran hadn’t realized it when he woke that morning, but it was quickly starting to feel like that day would be more important than he realized. All exhaustion aside, he was massively comfortable with the sort of pleasant tiredness in his muscles. Her question alerted him to the fact that it was actually true, that they were truly given the time to sit about and do nothing, as they so rarely could. A glance in Lucy-cat’s direction confirmed that he, too, felt the general contentedness of the evening.

“The real question,” Keiran began as he reached towards the boxes, “is which game I want to win first.” Grinning at her, he picked up the first box his hand touched, hardly caring what it was; Keiran doubted he would actually win, anyway, since he half wanted to let her think she’d done brilliantly regardless.

Settling what Keiran considered to be perhaps the most obnoxious game invented on the table in front of him, he pulled off the lid and set up the Monopoly board. Snatching up the dog character, he set it at the start and started into his food while Millie picked out her own character. “Now, I’m tempted to take bets on these games, but I don’t want you to be sad when you lose…”

A smirk lit his face before he took a drink from the beer Millie had opened for him earlier. At least, he mused, the only thing he managed to be a sore loser about was Quidditch. Losing games like this could be dealt with, undoubtedly. Especially if the stakes were interesting enough. He nearly suggested that they both set the stakes such that neither would want to win, but the entertaining side of Millie that came out when challenged could be even more fun. His hand roved about aimlessly, finally settling on Lucius’s back, where he let it rest. Keiran knew the cat may not get on with most people, but if anyone could get away with bothering the cat while he wanted to sleep, it was Mister Hayes.

He set down the plate briefly, abandoning Lucy-cat as well in order to pass about the money needed to start the game. “You can go first, love. Get a head start and all that.”

Keiran could tell, even as he had suggested it, that the games were likely to end up being ignored by the end of the evening. If nothing else, at least they had time to chat about whatever they wanted, or to just skip the talking, as they were so often tempted to do. Picking up his fork again, he stabbed into a few of the shells and smirked at her before lifting them to his mouth.

“Oh, thank you, poppet.” Millie smiled gratefully, taking her plate from Keiran as she did so.

She set it in her lap, careful to mind the cutlery that was precariously perched at the side, and smiled at him again before beginning to dig into her food. Upon tasting it, she mentally conceded that she could certainly get used to Keiran cooking. If she were to be honest – though she wouldn’t dare, lest his head grow too large under the praise – then she was prepared to concede that he was the better cook; or perhaps it was just that it was so infrequent that he did rustle something up that when he did, sheer pleasure was attached to the food. Whatever it was, Millie knew she had to tap into her husband’s ability more often – especially after the twins were born. She doubted they’d have much time on their hands but she hoped that perhaps between them they could manage – the food, that is, but the children too.

Millie looked up when the bravado began. She arched an eyebrow at her husband curiously, a half-smile rising on her mouth, and she shook her head, impervious to his teasing – or so she believed. She watched him, her gaze narrowing into a glare as he set out the board. She huffed quietly to herself instead of saying anything, focusing on her pasta rather than jumping down Keiran’s throat and taking him on competitively. The midwife had said that Millie had mellowed. The nicotine cravings were less now. She’d mellowed. She was going to be mellow. She wouldn’t hex him. She loved Keiran. There was a big difference between him and Elijah – she’d certainly feel bad about hexing antlers onto Keiran’s head.

She lifted her eyes once more when Keiran indicated she go first and she made a show of leaning forward, surveying the board and taking in her options. She then looked down at the bank, took out two hundred pounds, then stopped, turned to look at him before dropping it back in and returning her fingers to the spine of her spoon resting on the rim of her plate.

“No, no: ladies first of course,” she insisted with a wicked grin, bringing her spoon to her lips.

His wife really should have known that he would be the sort to see something so very trivial as a challenge or competition. He hadn’t been Quidditch Captain his last two years for no reason. Millie, of course, had had to sit by as he regaled stories of his school years, leaving out bits like Irene, and Audriana and Gavin. If she asked, he would explain, of course, but he hadn’t seen reason to bring it up at the time. Leaning back against the couch cushions, Keiran passed his wife a contented smile, ignoring the fact that she would likely snap at him in return. He was just so pleased to be home and without worry of what the next morning would bring, or without having to worry about whether or not he would end up falling asleep before Melissa.

Keiran watched for Millie’s reaction, ready to receive her challenge in return for his own. He could tell, though, that she was amused; he hadn’t been so playful in a good while considering how hard he had been working and his lack of time at home. It felt good to return to his old nature and remember how it felt to loosen up around his wife when she moved into his rooms. It would be a lie to say that he hadn’t noticed the change in his wife, or to claim that he wasn’t a little saddened by the changes they both were experiencing. He often found himself missing the Melissa that bounded around his quarters at Hogwarts and made him feel like he could just flop onto the bed with the knowledge that she would do the same. She would undoubtedly follow him in his decision to do so even still, though Keiran wished she would initiate it as well. Maybe she would tonight.

He waited for her to move forward around the board, only partly surprised that she pulled away and shot a jab at him in return. His mouth fell open in a pleased laugh, food forgotten for a bit. He, himself, was amazed to note how delighted he sounded by her reply. “Careful there, Sweetheart. I’m fairly certain I’ve proven to you a few times that I am not, in fact, a lady.” Keiran’s wink couldn’t be helped, though he leaned over the board and took up the dice. “However, I’ll ignore the insult and keep the head start.”

With the way things were going so far, Keiran had a feeling they wouldn’t actually manage to finish this game, nonetheless move on to the others. If neither let up on the dramatics and challenges, neither could win. He wasn’t like Robin, who would let Avery win to appease her; Keiran rather loved winning, himself. That wasn’t to say that he couldn’t be persuaded to change tack or topic, though.

After moving the little dog figurine several spots forward and claiming a rather pathetic (yet theoretically vital) piece of property, Keiran leaned back once more and resumed nomming. "Y'know," he began between bites, "the food at Krum's is pretty awful. Makes you wish for home-cooked meals. You're hardly missing out by staying home, if only for that reason."

Evenings like this one had always been what their marriage had been about. Millie would profess eagerly to even a stranger that her and her husband’s best work was done in bed. Whilst that may had been not far wrong, it also wasn’t the whole truth, either. They were at their best when they had two bottles of beer, food, the cat and each other. That was when they were at their equilibrium. It had started in his rooms. She’d moved in slowly and then all of a sudden until one day she wasn’t entirely sure whose black socks were whose. They’d brought out in each other the goodness, the youth and the playfulness that time and hardship had tried to erode away. They had set each other to rights again and when they were apart, things began to truly spin off axis and they were lost. It was easy to forget that relationships needed work. It wasn’t all cream cakes, iced buns and rainbows. No, it needed work. They needed work. And evenings like this? Those sealed every crack in the masonry.

Millie laughed and scooted forward on her bum to the table. After one last mouthful of pasta for the moment she set the bowl down beside her money and picked out the hat. She did rather like being the hat. Nevertheless, the banter would start up now and she was half expecting it to either end in tears or her sitting on her husband until he let her win. He wouldn’t give up without a fight but she’d never actually see him enact his more Slytherin side and use underhand tactics. She knew she would be easy to distract if he put his mind to it but he was easier still and, of the two of them, she was the one wearing the trousers and certainly had no qualms about cheating until her heart was blackened if it meant that she could win the game.

Smirking, Millie picked up the dice and rolled it out over the board. She rolled her eyes immediately and pushed her hat along a few spaces before picking up her bowl again. However, she did so after quipping in return to her husband, sending him a quizzical look as she considered his words before confiding:

“Only a few times?” Millie exclaimed admonishingly. She smirked and clucked her tongue against her front teeth before rolling her eyes about the room, feigning deep and meaningful thought. “No… no, wait… oh no... wait! Oh, no. Nope. Definitely not. You mustn’t have made it very clear. You need to be thorough. I did think you were a better educator than that.” Millie licked her lips, her smirk overriding her face now as her shoulders began to shake with poorly concealed humour. “Professor, you’ll just have to lecture me about this, I think. You’ll do a special class just for me, won’t you? I can come after hours if not. In fact, I can stay all night long if you like… just so you can make sure you can ram home the point properly… so I don’t forget next time. And I trust… I’ll have some sort of test to pass after. I’d prefer it to be a practical over theory … just so you know.”

Millie was an expert wind-up merchant. She was still a Finnigan, after all. However, returning the bowl to her lap, Millie resumed eating. Her smirk wasn’t so easily gotten rid of, however, and she poured over the pasta regardless. Then it occurred to her that, thanks to her midwife, she didn’t have to sit around and drink water during the evenings. Millie jumped up, setting down her pasta, albeit bear in mind this was more of a roll and rise scenario than any actual jumping. But whatever. She hopped (actual hopping) over to the drinks cabinet and from it produced a bottle of Shloer. She grinned and picked up her favourite wine glass before hopping back over to the table. She plopped herself back down on the pillows and broke the seal before pouring herself a hearty amount into the glass. She then set the bottle down before pausing to watch the bubbles.

“The midwife sussed me out immediately. She was a new one this one and was talking to me about clubbing because…y’know, I really look like someone who is going to go clubbing – but whatever. No, we then started to talk about booze and I was whining about how I can’t have beer or wine or well… air, even. But she recommended this because it’s like … sparkling grape juice or whatever and it makes me feel refined.” Millie laughed before picking up her glass and taking a sip. She offered it to Keiran with a smile. “It’s not bad, really, is it?”

Millie set the glass down after and looked at her husband with a curious smile on her face. She dropped one arm onto the coffee table and propped her head up in her palm before casting an eye over him, wondering what it was that he was getting at.

“I know I said I was bored but I’m not suddenly going to become Nigella. I just don’t have the hips.” She grinned a little before nodding thoughtfully. “No, I know what you mean. Eli’s Elves do make a cracking tiramisu though. He’s the best at making a fry up after a hangover. That’s his only forte and unless you’ve got a house full of Werewolves and Vampires like yours truly then I am sure you don’t see a lot of Krum breakfasts.” Millie smirked. “My dad used to cook in ours. All the time. Lavender could burn boiling water if she put her mind to it. He used to make this brilliant thing. Oh, god. It was pasta, ever a staple, but corned beef and tomato sauce and so much pepper you can’t feel your head anymore. Just… great comfort food. Then his puddings. They were fantastic.”

Millie’s smile grew wistful as she looked down at her wine glass. She could see him in her mind’s eye. He was immortal to her, ever young like he had been when she was little. With his glasses perched on his nose and his Quidditch jersey on, specked with paint of course because it was an old one and he hadn’t been to a match since well before they’d been born. He would always smile. Always, always. He’d always have a pint of Guinness at his elbow, too. Later it would be whisky but regardless it had always been something. Guinness at one elbow, Marlboros at the other. She understood she had a ridiculously romanticised view of her father now. The horrific circumstances in which he’d died and in the way they’d found him was etched permanently on the backs of her eyelids and in her trials to get rid of that memory she’d tried to remember the best of him. It had all been dredged up, though, when Aiden had died. That night appeared in tandem with the one before, though. Now, she wasn’t sure whose screams married up to the person. Perhaps they’d all just blurred together.

“There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t miss my dad, Keiran.” She murmured, lifting her watery gaze to look at him. “You’re so lucky, you know that? Like… I know, oh God I sound ridiculous but I… I’m sorry.” She exhaled, rubbing her index finger around the rim of the glass as she thought. “In your parents’ house there’s still love. People come and go and laugh and cry and they love each other so fiercely in that house. All of that was snuffed out and snatched away from underneath us when my dad died. Everything was gone. They chucked us out of the house in our pyjamas. God. What even were pyjamas back then? I think Ell had nought but a pair of trousers and socks on and there was me stood there in the then on-again-off-again boyfriend’s shirt and a pair of knickers. The coppers bundled us up in blankets and the medics took us off to the clinic and we sat there for hours, it felt like. I remember this one nurse… she said that she couldn’t believe that any parent would let their children get like us. I was livid. Who was she, you know? Who was she to make that judgement when she didn’t even know us? We were fine with him, dad, I mean. With him we weren’t broken and we were alright and I thought everything would be fine as long as we were with him but then he wasn’t there anymore and by the time the expelled us from the clinic everything was gone. She’d already done it. The house had been put on the market and there was nothing left. The furniture, our clothes, our things, my books, my paintings… even the sodding dust bunnies were gone and the whole place stank of bleach. Everything she ever touched turned to ash like the anti-Midas she was. She didn’t even come and pick us up it was Trent’s gran. Des wouldn’t let us go home without getting us fed and clothed and I don’t think Elliot spoke a whit through it all. I didn’t hear him speak for a week until he finally snapped at Lavender. I didn’t see him for a month after that. Comes back more or less the same way he was when you first met him. First met me, too. Buzzed, I guess. Cigarette fingers. Unkempt. God knows where he’d been. But I remember, even before that she’d started with her poison – or what I thought was – and before the grass could even grow over his plot she’d already sold the house. The buyers… this young couple having a baby. Lav and the missus took the helm, going round the house meanwhile I shagged the hubby upstairs whilst they were in the garden. Trent and I were off, by this point, so it was perfectly legitimate having sex with a married man in a house you were trying to flog to him, am I right?” Millie laughed humourlessly and shook her head. “Fat beached whale, his wife, too.”

This time she did laugh, though she muffled it a little with a mouthful of her drink.

“I always thought we were going to be alright as long as we were with him. Once he was gone we were on our own. We used to wallow in that house. It was a wonder we didn’t all die in there, the way we festered. It stank of fags and booze and pizza grease and we were all dying slowly but God we were happy. Happy as you can be watching the world around you fall down about your ears. I think we’d all come to accept that it was going to be this way. The four of us. Me, Ells, Trent and my dad… it was fine. Then one night Trent went out. Went to a party with…” Millie smudged her lips together, wondering how candid she was going to be. However, admitting to having sex with a married man while his wife was downstairs trying to buy the house your father had died in… that was perverse enough and she shouldn’t have really censored herself over the forthcoming confidence. “Our … friend who also sold Spice and … a number of other hallucinogenics and had done since we were around… fourteen, I think. Um. So he was out. It’d been a great day. We’d sobered up as best we could. Gone to the football, come back, eaten fish’n’chips and made dinner and then we started and it was fine. It was normal. We watched films and fixed the world in an evening. We had one last bottle of Firewhisky and over that we worked out how Arsenal would win the league. Ells went to bed first with the girl he’d brought home. They went to bed and then it was me and dad finishing off the whisky… we did as best we could but he sent me off… I was falling asleep where I stood and he just laughed and kissed me and said ‘g’night Mell-Belle’ and that was it. I trudged off to bed and he stayed back to lock up. Trent came to bed at some point, I remember he flopped in and muttered something about … oh God, I don’t even know anymore but it was something like five… maybe. We found my dad at eight. Then… then everything changed.”

Millie sighed and lifted a hand to rub it across her face. She shook herself, unsure now what she sought to gain by telling Keiran this. In many ways, he had a right to know. She had no idea where her spiel had come from though. The last time she’d confided in him about something like that she’d let it all out in one large clump, too. She didn’t regret it but at the same time she felt ashamed. She still felt like a failure, asymmetrical to him in more ways than not.

“I guess I’m just…I don’t want it to happen to our children. You’re not a chain smoking alcoholic with Lavender Brown for a wife, of course, but I just don’t want for them to not have somewhere to go. We couldn’t go anywhere. I ended up in sodding Jamaica for God’s sake and the first time I’d seen Elliot since that time was when we got married. I’d written to him but I hadn’t seen him and he’d not spoken a word about anything and it was like everything was fine. I want them to have a house, no, a home… that is theirs and that is always going to be theirs but I just… I don’t want my life to be theirs. Do you know what I mean? Like… I’m a walking disaster that got lucky because the Ministry thought it would be funny to put someone as maddeningly successful as you with someone who… well, someone like me. So I… I don’t know where any of that came from but I think what I’m saying is that … I don’t want us to be my parents and I don’t want our children to be like me and Elliot. I’d rather two carbon copies of you, if you please, Professor.” She smiled and reached up to wipe her eyes, finding them damp but not too bad at all. “Sorry. That was the worst way to try and get out of losing to you at monopoly ever, I think.”

What seemed to be starting out as a joke instead turned round and shocked Keiran so much he very nearly abandoned the game at her calling him ‘Professor.’ Reluctant though he was to admit it, his wife could get nearly anything she wanted if she said it that way. Clearly, Millie had learned as much from their time in his office before they left, because she kept on, her attempts to distract him seeming mighty impressive to his ears. As much as he hated to say it, he would have given her the win if she would just stop talking like that without backing it up. Indeed, she turned back to her food before outright getting up and traipsing off.

He huffed quietly, setting his plate down – he wasn’t exactly hungry for food at that point. Damn her, but she had managed to get under his skin just as she wanted to. That woman could have anything she wanted as far as Keiran was concerned, and she bloody well knew it, too. He drank from the glass offered when she returned, though it was mostly to appease her so she would get out whatever she seemed to be trying to say.

As she went on, Keiran found it harder and harder to listen to. As surprised by parts as he was, he wasn’t going to let it all get into his head. They had been different people when her story actually happened; Keiran hadn’t exactly been the model of an upstanding man at that point, either, so who was he to talk? Besides, he had often wondered after her father, too afraid to upset her on good days or too tired and frustrated on the bad ones. He couldn’t find it in him to stop her, even as the words struck him and her near-crying made him ache with the need to stop it.

His hands kept fidgeting, wanting to reach over and pull her to him. Oftentimes, though, he found out too late that someone was the type to just get worse when hugged. Instead, he passed her a glance to show that he was listening, hands picking up her legs and draping them over his own. Keiran felt like he had to offer some sort of response, some sort of attempt at comfort, even if he didn’t know who some of the characters in her tale were, or didn’t know if he should be frustrated by the details of the story. Directing his attention on one ankle and then the other, he decided that he should try and make up for his having been away in part by massaging away the pain that might have been created there.

Keiran’s eyes darted to Millie’s as she paused, not entirely surprised when she started off again. His frown set again when she directed her ramblings inward, unsure how many times they would both need to go over their issues before they truly went away. He picked up her feet again, moving them to their original spot, before turning and basically kneeling in front of her as he tucked his feet beneath him.

“Let me explain something to you, Millie,” he began gently, one hand brushing over her cheek in search of lingering tears it could take away. “You might be a bit nervous about all this, but it would be a huge lie if I said I wasn’t terrified. I am, really. Massively unprepared. But that doesn’t mean everything has to fall apart from the get go. Hell, it might. But I fully expect that if I turn into some brainless tosser, you’ll set me right again. You’ve got to, love. You know I get stupid ideas into my head –“ Keiran shuddered to think back on his fairly embarrassing admission at Christmas, “-and I’m never quite sure how to correct them once they’ve set in… Thank you, though, for telling me. It couldn’t have been easy for you, even after everything.” He glanced down at her middle, fingers itching to touch her there. Keiran suddenly wanted to turn her round as he used to and just hold her to him, fingers toying with the fabric of her shirt and glancing over the skin along her waist.

Shaking his head, he moved both hands to pass through the hair framing her face. “I’m going to mess up, Mills. It’s what I do, apparently. But don’t you ever consider the idea that it’s because I stopped loving you. There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that that could happen. Not now, certainly not after you’ve braved carrying and having the twins.” Cracking a smile, he added, “You can’t get rid of me, even if you want to.”

Keiran leaned in, his nose brushing hers, and hovered for a moment as if considering kissing her. He instead smirked and sat back down properly. “I might should tell you, though, that people don’t really call me ‘Professor’ anymore. You might be the only one, now that I think on it.” He feigned musing over the realization, forefinger passing over his lip as if in thought. Dropping his hand back to his lap, he passed her a childish grin. “Not really complaining, though. I kind of missed it.”

Keiran’s expression did nothing to hide the fact that his voice dropped a few notches at the last sentence, clearly distracted once more by the other game she had been playing earlier. It wasn't his trying to be insensitive, by any means. No, he just didn't want her lingering on things that could no longer be helped. Instead of waiting for a reply, he turned back to the board as if nothing had changed, glancing about in search of the dice.

“Amateurs, the pair of us,” Millie laughed, leaning into Keiran. “We’re going to be alright … I’m just being stupid. I just don’t want to let them down, that’s all. Or you. I don’t want to let anyone down.”

There had been so many mistakes in her not even eighteen short years. She’d been looking for so long, looking for something to fill the void left by two people upon whom she should have rested. She had never faced up to that toil. She’d run away. She and her brother had both run away. She knew that she’d been wrong, that she should have been calmer and more tolerant of her mother and she should have tried to help her father – but she didn’t. All of it had taken her here, to this point where she was going to have children and start her own rebuttal to her own childhood. She wanted to make it better. She wanted to make right in her own children what she had never had. She wanted both herself and Keiran to be there forever with a home full of warmth and love and good food and she wanted it to be a place they could always call home whatever happened. She needed that. At least that way she could be square with herself as well as them.

“You’re not going to go wrong, love,” Millie murmured with a half-smile. “You are going to be the most wonderful father. They’re going to love you. It’s going to be fine. It’ll be wonderful. I just know it. But, uh… can we at least have a garden, maybe? Somewhere to race them?”

Millie shuffled forward and met Keiran, nudging back with the slightly pointed tip of her nose. Just like that, all of the horrible thoughts were wiped away and the slate was blank and clear again. She felt freer, as though something had been lifted off of her chest, and she almost wanted to kiss Keiran – in fact, she was determinedly considering it – but something made her pause and she found herself regretting it as he turned back to the monopoly board. Millie pursed her lips and let her hand traipse absentmindedly down Keiran’s spine before moving to sit next to him properly.

“Well Mr Professor man,” Millie grinned, getting to her feet. “Do you want another beer?” She popped a kiss on the crown of his head and leaned round him to shake the bottle of beer.

The blonde woman wandered back into the kitchen and got another bottle as promised, returning not long after with Narcissa cat on her heels having been let in through the kitchen window. The kitten rushed over and settled down with Lucius. The said Lucius cocked an eye open at Narcissa but said nothing and resumed his slumber much to Millie’s wry amusement. She leaned over and put the bottle down again before bringing her hands to Keiran’s shoulders.

“Can I convince you to come away with me for a few days?” She queried, curling her arms around his neck. “I found this beautiful little cottage in Cornwall and I was thinking we could have a long weekend and just have some time together… what do you think?”

“Your faith in me is astounding, Millie. Truly.” Keiran shook his head regardless of the rather goofy smile that took over his expression. “But yes, I figure a place with a yard would be far more fun for them than a flat like this one…” He trailed off, glancing around the apartment in question. Sighing he shook his head and turned back to look at her.

He opened his mouth to say that she needn’t get him anything, but off she went regardless, so he just chuckled. “Apparently I do,” he mumbled to himself, smile turning into a smirk at Cissa-cat’s entrance. Keiran certainly seemed to get on with cats better than humans most days – Robin could certainly attest to that. Today, however, he seemed to be handling things better than he had in a while.

Leaning back against the couch, Keiran snaked his arms around her wait, cradling her as he tugged her onto his lap. Slipping his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt, he found purchase at the small of her back. “Friday?” He asked, voice light. He wouldn’t mind extending his time with her, but it wasn’t yet the weekend, and she had made plans for Thursday. As tempted as he was to suggest she blow off that Jack guy, Keiran didn’t want to ruin her fun and the potential of her gaining a new set of friends.

“Actually, love,” he started, remembering that she had pointed out friends of hers that would be affected by the law regarding Half-Breeds. “What about this: You come down on Friday and see your friends, then we head out after my class? We can floo there, or apparate, and be there before lunch.”

Keiran leaned forward, lips trailing her collarbone. “That work?” His kisses trailed under her chin, one hand cradling her head as he tipped it back for more access. He realized, even as he pulled her closer, that they had the entire weekend to do whatever they wanted. He wanted to enjoy the calm of the evening together, but not as much as he wanted to make up for how much he had been gone. “You can keep your Thursday plans,” he mumbled against into her neck. “And then we can do whatever you want all weekend. Promise. No work schedule, no early nights, and Mum can watch the cats,” he added with a laugh into her skin.