"I'll be home a bit late tonight," Draco told me as he left for work. "But I'll be home for dinner."
And so I roll out the dough, humming to the classical music on the radio. I glance at the baby monitor and watch Scor's tummy rise and fall as his nook hangs out of his mouth. I can't help but smile. He is a beautiful boy - looks just like his father.
My smile fades and my hands pause their work. I have to wonder what keeps him at work, and why we aren't important enough to bring him home. I honestly appreciate the money he earns, but money isn't everything. I wonder if he realizes that these beautiful moments - like watching my baby sleep - will be gone forever.
I sigh and maneuver the paper thin crust into the pan. I can't help wondering if Draco will even eat this pie tonight. I timed it perfectly - the pie should come out of the oven right at dinner time and will cool enough to be warm for dessert. He won't be home, a voice in my head tells me.
I put it in the oven anyway.
Scor starts to wake up in the monitor, and I rush to get him before he becomes frightened.
He blinks at the world from my hip, clutching at my shirt, and I put him in his high chair. "Let's see if Daddy's coming home tonight."
"Da - ey!" Scor squeals, clapping his hands.
(Draco doesn't come home.)
For Russian Roulette, with Draco/Astoria as the prompt.