Okay, so basically I got a few reviews last time telling me that they really enjoyed the story, but found it quite hard to follow. It's all Pansy talking, okay? A one-sided conversation. Well, a one-sided psychiatric session would be more accurate. Ron is the psychiatrist (he's smart enough for that in my head) and…well you can figure out the rest from this next part. So Prytania and Donna, this is for you! Sorry I never replied to your reviews. Enjoy! Oh, and I've decided to change the format, just to make it easier for everybody.
Love x
The young woman is sitting on a red, velvet armchair, filing her nails into long, sharp points. Every now and again she blows the strands of dark brown hair that keep fluttering into her face away. On the floor beneath her, a small redheaded child, probably about two or so, plays with a small Krum figurine.
The door bangs open violently, and a man stumbles in. His face is obscured as he is holding multiple brown paper bags. A long purple feather is seen to be sticking out from one of them. He wobbles around and kicks the door closed with his long, limber legs that are topped in shiny black shoes. From behind we see that he is wearing a navy blue suit, which compliments perfectly his floppy red hair. It catches the last rays of sun and looks glossy, almost varnished – the woman, at the sight of this, feels the urge to get up and stroke it; to twirl it around her fingers like the red stripe on a candy cane. She manages to restrain herself.
The little girl sitting on the floor in her diapers energetically throws the tiny Quidditch player across the room. It hits a wall, and faint cries of protest float back. Upon putting down the groceries, the man bends down and picks up his daughter, holding her high in the air and spinning in a fast circle. She giggles with delight, her bluish-green eyes twinkling, almost mirroring her father's.
The woman watches her husband and daughter from her armchair. She doesn't move.
The tall man, noticing this, walks slowly towards her with their child in his arms. He stops before her, but doesn't bend down, forcing her to tilt her chin up at him. As she lifts her eyes, she's blinded from the sun. All she can see is the radiant glow that emanates from the heads of her daughter and husband. The soothing, hazy, cloudy bronze floats down onto her.
She smiles the first real smile all day, and suddenly all is forgotten. She springs out of the chair, stroking her child's soft cheeks and cooing: "Jamie sweetheart, who's the cutest little girl in all the land?" It's as if she's another person, as if all the hostility and impatience and sheer rudeness she demonstrated earlier had trickled out of her.
He looks at her, this sweet, caring loving mother. He thanked his lucky stars she tolerated – no, loved – him.
He couldn't help but grin at her. And she couldn't help but grin right back.
She was a new woman. A changed woman. His job was done.