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[Nov. 24th, 2010|10:00 pm] |
A place had been found at last, with room enough for Michael, herself, Thomas and the Emma. It still seemed odd to think of them in that way, but their life had somehow formed a family unit in the middle of all of this uncertainty and worry. And happiness, despite everything she had learned and how she was certain that she was blowing up like a balloon at a muggle child's party, she felt happy. After so many years of everything being laced with danger and swollen with worry, it was odd to have a just state of contentment and not running with fear of one's life. Of course after so long, it wasn't as if they were idle; Michael had been spending much of his time working on breaking the spell, reading whatever he could get his hands on that might have merit, and Wicca herself had been taking on the daunting task of packing.
It was odd in some ways to go through her things from so many years of just having them here. Most of her time living Wicca had simply lived in her office and her flat had been nothing more than a place to sleep, eat and occasionally shag Michael, but since everything had happened the it had somehow become home, and now she was packing up to move twice essentially. There was the place for the four of them, and then there was the trip to Hogwarts which really was the place that Wicca had called home for most of her life. In some ways, it was if they were simply stepping into her father's life. Thankfully they weren't going to be moving into his cottage, because that would be even more weird than how their life already was.
So now Wicca stood in front of her shelves, her wand wrapped between two fingers and tapping against her lip. She'd gotten into the habit of clothing that had been a bit baggy, hoping to camouflage her pregnancy for as long as she could. There was no shame in the fact that she was having Michael Potter's child, and Emma had definitely been conceived after the shooting... but she didn't want their to be those awkward questions and she didn't want to watch people could backwards in their head and then have their judgements waiting on her. Several books went flying into the crate at her feet, and several others went into a pile. Wicca's book selection was no where near as helpful as Michael's but anything that seemed like it might even have the least bit of importance was in the crate, and everything else could be dealt with at the other house.
She hummed softly and her other hand rested against her stomach. The formally flatness was rounding the smallest bit now, and it was odd to feel that hardness and know that their daughter was growing inside her. |
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