yours, mine, & ours
A HariPo oneshot
by mew-tsubaki
Note: The Harry Potter characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not to me. A marital spat to commemorate fifteen years of writing fanfic on this site. XD Read, review, and enjoy!
- ^-^3
Morag could sense Romilda staring at the top of her head while she bent over the carriage as the lift brought them to the Auror Office. "What?" she asked with her lips puckered into a fishy pout. She wiggled her fingers on either side of her face for extra effect.
"Mor…your face could freeze that way, luv," Romilda remarked, a hint of a sigh in her tone.
Morag laughed as she caused delight in her intended audience—the little one occupying the carriage—and stood up straight. "Oh, no, it won't. Although if she stays this small, I don't think she'd mind."
"Well, babies don't stay this small, thank Merlin. Can you imagine the nappies we'd go through in a lifetime?" The freckled woman shuddered, and her bushy black hair, left down and free to keep away the nip of the November chill outside the Ministry, shuddered with her. The tinny voice on the lift's speaker announced they'd arrived at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement right as the lift came to a halt. "I'm so glad it's such a short trip to the office…!"
Morag didn't blame her wife. Sure, Morag had been in here more recently than Romilda had—Morag had stopped by last weekend to pick up some paperwork to take home to work on—but it still was new for Romilda to be up and walking around places for a while after all the bedrest the Healers and the midwife had placed her on right before the delivery. "Are you sure you still want to hit the store after this? I'm happy to do that on my own, luv," Morag reminded her as she pushed the carriage out of the lift behind Romilda.
But Romilda shook her head. "No, we need more bibs—she spits up faster than either of us can wave our bloody wands. Plus the exercise is good for me," she grumbled, although the last bit was said under her breath, something more of an aside, echoing something said by the Healer tasked with following up with her these days.
They set aside their conversation as they approached the Auror Office and saw various familiar faces. Morag's old classmate, Fay Kirke, née Dunbar, was the first to spy them, doing a double-take when she glanced up from a file at her desk and shooed away some of the newest trainees. "No one told me it was Bring Your Kid to Work Day," she teased as she brushed her clipped-back hair over her shoulder and pushed her chair back to greet them. "If I'd known, I'd have brought Dylan and Hollie along instead of dropping them at Andrew's parents'."
"Did I hear 'kid'?" Hestia Jones piped up before either witch could answer. Over at John Dawlish's desk, the two senior-most Aurors turned their heads Morag and Romilda's way, and Hestia's dark blue eyes glittered as they skipped over the new mothers and zoomed in on the carriage. She smacked poor old Dawlish in the arm hard enough to cause the man to go "oof!" before she scurried over to them. "Oh, holy Helga, it really is an ickle one of your own…!"
"Well, while I did look amazing these last several months, I was still pregnant," Romilda reminded her oh-so modestly. "But you've never expressed interest in babies before."
"Well, a part of me was still trying to wrap my head around the donor pro—" She caught herself before finishing "process," but her cheeks flushed nearly as red as her lips. Hestia cleared her throat. "She's so cute, though!" She tore her eyes away from the baby long enough to glance at the mothers and ask, "And? What are we calling her?"
Romilda exchanged a look with Morag—neither of them could get used to Hestia's exuberance, as though she were younger than both of them—but then Romilda nodded, and Morag gently picked their daughter up, tucking her into her arms carefully as the midwife and Romilda's mum had shown them loads of times. "Romagda," Morag said.
The hubbub died down briefly, filled with only the goings-on of the office in the background. At least they'd expected this. Still, they loved the name, and Romilda's mum appreciated it, too, and that was what mattered to them.
"Clever," Fay finally said after an odd beat. "A sort of…portmanteau of your two names, yeah?"
Morag beamed, though Romilda's smile was far tamer and more appropriate. "It felt right," Romilda offered as sole explanation.
Up ahead, near Hestia's and Dawlish's desks, a door opened, and Harry popped his head out of his office after Dawlish gestured to the gathering. Harry's eyebrows shot up into his hairline.
"And that's our cue," Romilda told Hestia and Fay. "We'll bring her by another time, you two, honest."
Hestia pouted at missing the chance to hold Romagda, but Fay tipped her chin to Morag, a sign not to worry about Hestia waylaying them on the way out. Then the new family made their way to Harry's office, meeting him at the doorway.
"Congratulations," Harry said, a grin on his face that thankfully matched Fay's level of enthusiasm and not Hestia's. He looked between the two women. "A surprise visit to introduce her, right? I'm not going to walk in tomorrow and find you both back at work?"
Morag shook her head and passed Romagda off to Romilda just as the baby began to squirm and fuss. "No, no, just introductions. Oh, right—Harry, Romagda Faustine Vane. Romagda, Harry."
Romagda burped at Harry when she turned to blink at him.
The trio of adults laughed. "I've had worse conversation before," Harry insisted. "Sometimes at interdepartmental meetings." He groaned. Then he locked eyes with both of them. "How are you two doing, though? She arrived last month, yeah? Do you two need anything?"
Morag waved a hand. "We're fine. Going through things like crazy, but we've almost got the schedule down."
"My mum's been brilliant with the extra help," Romilda added. She furrowed her brow at him. "Besides, should you really be asking us such things? Isn't Ginny due for the umpteenth time soon?"
Morag grinned at how her crassness had rubbed off on Romilda, but Harry didn't rise to the provocation. "Ginny's not pregnant for the umpteenth time, Vane. We're expecting our third child sometime in April. So, if anything, I've got the experience you two lack, so I'm allowed to offer my resources, both as your boss and as a friend."
"Actually, Boss," Morag interrupted, "could we perhaps reconfirm our respective maternity leaves while we're here?"
"Ah, right." Harry turned on his heel and went to the cabinet on the left side behind his desk. He manually opened a drawer, but he Summoned their personnel files and flipped to the back of each one to skim the most recent notes. "Vane—off for as long as you need and can return part-time initially; we can discuss it then, if that's the case. MacDougal—returning fulltime at the end of this month." Harry picked his head up and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Nothing needs to change, does it? You're two of my best, and it's a little tough around here with Ron forever part-time and Neville leaving here to train under Sprout ages ago…"
"Harry, those forlorn eyes don't work on us outside a warzone," Morag stated dryly, green eyes meeting green. "Thank you for the compliments, though, and if you're feeling that kind, then feel free to stick such commendations in our files, yeah?" she tacked on with a cheeky wink.
As if a part of the conversation the entire time, Romagda cooed and giggled. What a good girl, forever entertained by her mother!
Harry sighed, but he smiled nevertheless. "I'll see about it." He ushered them out of his office, a wistful look on his face when Romagda looked his way. "Get home safely, you three. Perhaps I'll head home early myself…," he mumbled, glancing at his wristwatch.
As promised, Fay kept Hestia from delaying Morag and Romilda on their way out, although they were held up briefly in the Atrium nevertheless. The Ministry walls still had ears even a decade later, and Padma had fled her Undersecretary duties to intercept the new family. Sharp, intelligent Padma Patil dithered when she saw Romagda, but they let her hold her so long as Padma promised not to use any baby talk around her. "I never!" Padma gasped, scandalized. "You should see me with my nephew—he's two and already picking up Hindi like a school-age child," she bragged as though she were his parent and not his aunt.
With another promise for another visit, this time to Padma, Morag and Romilda finally made it outside the Ministry of Magic and back into London. Romilda tucked Romagda back under her blankets in the carriage before they set a course for the shopping district a block away.
"So you're still up for…?"
Romilda rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm up for an errand, Morag. 'Sides, Mum is staying with us for now, so knowing we've got her extra set of experienced hands is a big relief." A shop up ahead with a sign in the shape of a rattle with a baby's face and a bow on it caught her eye. She jabbed her thumb in its direction. "Shall we?"
Morag had no difficulty getting Romagda's carriage over the entryway's stoop since the carriage was bewitched with a Featherweight Charm to make hefting it as easy as possible even when occupied. Navigating indoors, however, was a challenge for the store had numerous narrow aisles crammed into the tiny space, and odd end tables with useless gadgets and gizmos barred passage to certain rows. Morag actually lost sight of Romilda twice in the store, both times when Romilda had rounded the corner of an aisle.
"This place has so much junk, but at least they have the junk we need," Romilda chirped when she found Morag the second time in the back of the store. A basket hung from Romilda's arm, filled with a dozen bibs, a lilac-hued onesie, a few more towels, and yet another stuffed animal.
"What have we got this time?" Morag asked, quirking her eyebrow as she picked up the creature. "A…monkey with a bad toupee?"
"No! I mean, yes, it's a monkey, but it's cute. He's got wild tufts of hair just like Romagda." Romilda held the stuffed animal close to their daughter's head for comparison which was, unfortunately, uncanny given she'd inherited Romilda's hirsute gene. "They're both adorable."
"The animals are quickly filling up the nursery at home," Morag quipped, but she caved with an "all riiight" when Romilda pulled big eyes on her. "I really ought to learn to say 'no' to you at some point otherwise I'm doomed for when this one begins to talk," the Ravenclaw added.
Romilda laughed. "It's fine to indulge for now, Mor. We get to enjoy everything together for a little while longer," she said as she held onto the stuffed monkey for another second before returning it to their shopping basket. "It's a shame we didn't abuse that clear opportunity Potter gave us earlier and ask for a little more time for your maternity leave," she thought aloud. "I want us to be able to do everything together for these first few months and not miss out on a single thing concerning Romagda…" Romilda trailed off with a frown, and even the rosiness in her cheeks from their walk here faded.
Morag stared at the top of the carriage, unable to fight her own frown. "I know," she said after a beat. "But it's only logical that we won't always both be there for everything in her life." She chewed on her bottom lip. "That's especially so given our occupation, luv, which is why…I think only one of us should stay an Auror, and I think it should be me."
Romilda, who'd been ahead of Romagda's carriage by a step, came to a halt, and Morag didn't realize until she bumped into her wife. The slight jolt woke their drowsing baby girl who watched them with avid interest. "Come again?" Romilda asked, quietly, coldly, her tone even.
Morag blinked. She knew that tone. Romilda typically had no problem lighting into someone when mad. But when especially livid… "Romilda, I've just—I've given this a lot of thought."
Not the right words. Romilda's dark eyes widened in shock before her thick eyebrows descended and she glared at her wife. "You've 'given this a lot of thought'?!" she hissed. "So this means you made up your mind without me? Like—like a husband bossing his wife around?"
"Now, that's not what—"
"I don't like you trying to cast us into gender roles, Morag. You've never done that! We've never done that! So why the hell start now?!"
Romagda was fully awake now, and Romilda's rising volume prompted her to shift from whining to crying. Both mothers stiffened at that, ignorant of other patrons' eyes on them, and Morag reached in to caress Romagda's head and shush her while Romilda silently fumed. Thankfully, Romagda was receptive, and she calmed after gumming Morag's knuckle for a minute.
Romilda said nothing else but continued to glare at Morag as they made their way to the registers. She placed the basket on the counter and let Morag search her pockets for Muggle notes to pay for everything, and then the family exited the store without further commotion.
Outside, the chill felt a lot colder to Morag now. She pulled her old blue-and-bronze scarf around her neck more tightly, an apology on the tip of her tongue.
But Romilda cut her off. "Look, I can get us home on my own."
Morag blinked several times at her, incredulous. "Sorry?"
Romilda pushed the shopping bag further up her arm onto her elbow and took the carriage from Morag. And she refused to meet Morag's eyes. "I said, I can get us home on my own." Then she clenched her jaw. An odd beat passed between them before she unceremoniously added, "Don't bother coming home tonight," and took off down the street for the bus stop since it was unwise to Disapparate with a newborn.
Morag gawked. "Romilda!" she yelled after her, but Romilda didn't turn around, and Morag was rooted to the spot, too stunned to run after her. When Morag finally lost sight of her in the crowd, Morag dropped to her haunches and ran two shaky hands through her bob. "FUCK! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
Her expletive-filled outburst earned her stares and whispers from passersby, but she could care less. Her eyes burned while her heart lodged itself in her throat. Morag ran her hands back and forth through her hair, unease overtaking her.
It had been almost ten years since she last saw Romilda this mad. Honestly. The only other time had been that night in May, in 1998, when Morag had tried to leave Romilda behind in the Room of Requirement with the younger students so they'd be protected. She hadn't wanted Romilda to fight, but they'd grown close over the course of that year, especially after moving into the Room of Requirement, and, though Romilda hadn't figured out her own feelings for Morag then, she'd definitely gotten angry with Morag for trying to cast her aside like some delicate thing before insisting they stick together. Of course, Morag had felt justified in her initial assessment considering they'd both nearly lost their lives multiple times during the final battle—but still! Romilda had been so, so mad.
Like now.
The only difference was that, before, Romilda had wanted no space between them at all. Now, she probably would've been happy with at least an entire city between them…
Morag glared at the snow-covered ground and blinked back tears—they stung her eyes. She stood with a grunt, pushing off her knees, her mind crawling away from the swirling thoughts of how mad Romilda was with her and inching towards her new predicament: where to stay the night.
The Leaky Cauldron was out of the question. Sure, it was cleaner and didn't smell as bad with Hannah Longbottom running it, but Morag had never been fond of the place to been with. Morag knew she'd have to rely on her friends…
Even running through that mental list made her fidgety, and Morag paced back and forth in front of the baby store. She had disappeared while fighting in May '98, knocked out for a long while and never found by others. When she'd come to on her own and realized she'd in fact been on her own, left for dead, she'd soured on her friendships then. It didn't help to learn that her family had been murdered, either, and she was the last MacDougal, and it took years actually being around Romilda and Romilda's mum after returning to England to work up the courage to reconnect with her fellow eagles. These days, Padma and Terry and the others treated her no different as if Morag had never been missing, but sometimes Morag second-guessed herself. Still…
She shook her head of those thoughts and went down the list. Terry was tidy but had a stick up his arse about surprise visits, so no. Michael… Michael would be great for getting plastered, she thought with a dark grin, but then Morag frowned as she concluded this was a Serious Issue™ and not the type of thing to get plastered over. Padma would get off work soon, so Morag could just head back to the Ministry to wait, but the idea of Padma made Morag scrunch up her nose, because, much as she loved the Indian woman, Padma really would be a nag. Morag really could've used Mandy right about now, but it was the middle of the school year, and even Aurors had no business popping up to Scotland unannounced to have a chat with their ghost friends…
That left Morag with the one person she'd been closest to in the dorms, might've even called her best mate once upon a time.
- ^-^3
Not far from St. Mungo's was a housing complex for Wizarding folk only. It boasted a dulled, greenish-beige stone façade and matched St. Mungo's in terms of wear and tear; it was the type of place not meant to appeal to Muggles despite the prime real estate in London, precisely because, if one knew what the symbol of the crossed bone and wand pressed into the keystone above the main door meant, the complex was dedicated housing for Healers.
Morag Apparated into the stone garden Concealed behind the building and went around to the front, entering as someone left. Inside, she didn't have far to go as her intended destination was the fifth door on the second level, and she heaved a quiet sigh of relief as someone inside answered.
Su Li, always so good at hiding her surprise, raised her eyebrows at Morag's arrival. "Morag."
"Hey, Su. Sorry for crashing. Is your couch available for the night? Lisa won't mind, right?"
Su held her head with her free hand. "No, no, Lisa won't mind…" She opened the door wider for Morag to step in, but her thin lips pulled into a frown, a nonverbal "…so long as you provide the story" written in her expression.
Morag shrugged out of her cloak and scarf and threw them on said couch before flopping atop them while Su busied herself in the small kitchen directly across from the front door."'M rmff Mff rmmmf ffm," Morag mumbled into the cushions.
Su joined her and gently shook Morag's back. She placed a cup of tea on the table in front of Morag. "I speak English, Latin, and a little bit of Mandarin, but I've no clue what you just said," Su deadpanned.
Morag twisted her head and shot her a look. "I said, I'm royally fucked right now."
"Never would've translated that in a million years," Su said between sips of her own cup of tea.
Morag waited for another invitation, but Su wasn't one to waste time or breath on words that weren't needed, so Morag dove in anyway, telling her what had transpired and even mentioning the comparison of Romilda's anger to the last time she'd been this angry, during the war.
The entire time, Su sat and listened, never interrupting. Her poker face gave nothing away, either, which was a curse and a blessing in their friendship; sometimes Morag thought this was why she liked being friends with Su, because Su waited until she had all the facts before her before she developed an opinion, the polar opposite of Morag's former brashness.
But when Morag finished and still Su remained quiet, the Auror couldn't help prodding her. "So? I mean, did I really stick my foot in it? Or is Romy overreacting? I mean, I have a point about Romagda having at least one safe parent, yeah?"
Su drew in a breath. "Well—"
"Sorry I'm late!" Lisa called, the door swinging open. The witch was a hurricane of lime-green robes coming home and shutting the door behind her. Her big, bright blue eyes grew when she saw they had company. "Oh! Morag! Good to see you!" She looked at Su and pointed to Morag. "Am I completely forgetting something on the schedule by your grandmum's clock?"
Morag gaped at the packed calendar hanging by a craft antique on their mantel. "No, surprise visit," Su answered.
"Oh. Oh, dear." Lisa unbuttoned her Healer robes, hung them, and sat on the arm of the couch, looking Morag over. "Is everything all right, Morag? Oh, no, your eyes—were you crying?"
The Auror exchanged a look with Su, and the latter wordlessly stood to make a fresh pot of tea.
This time around they had biscuits to go with the tea, and Lisa pulled out a package of leftover Halloween chocolates which she and Morag demolished. Lisa was more prone to interrupting, so the chocolates were a good distraction.
At last, Morag was done, and she finished her tea and downed a whole second cup. "I… think I'm done talking for the rest of the night," she grumbled. She reached up and massaged her throat for good measure.
"That's quite the row to have," Lisa quipped. She gathered up the chocolate wrappers around her on the floor. "I s'pose I can see your side as well as hers, though."
Morag frowned, and her shoulders slouched as she sank further into their couch. She lifted her head to Su.
Su offered her a commiserating smile. "Same," she said. "But…" The Asian witch tilted her head slightly in Lisa's direction, allowing her partner to take it away.
"It's actually not at all surprising that you made that big a decision on your own," Lisa finished for Su. "You said it yourself—look at how you and Romilda began."
"Yeah, but—we weren't really much of anything at that age."
"Maybe, maybe not. But that's still where it all started, isn't it? And, to an extent, you've always been trying to protect her. But," Lisa cautioned, and her stern gaze put Morag in mind of Madam Pomfrey in their seventh year every time the old nurse saw yet another member of Dumbledore's Army come into her office with wounds from purposefully resisting the regime, "your decision also makes it sound as though you've dismissed Romilda's desires and dreams of being an Auror."
Morag snapped back to the present. Her mouth dropped open. "What?! But—no! I'd never!"
Lisa shook her head, the curled ends of her blond bob bouncing along her jawline. "I'm not saying you would, not intentionally. But that's the impression you give, Morag. Not to mention"—she paused to exchange a skeptical look with Su—"how on Earth did you come to the conclusion you did, that you've got to be the Auror? Because you're older? Taller? Manlier? The Ravenclaw? Had more O.W.L.s? Because if it's a marks thing, then sorry to remind you, but you never went for an eighth year, mate, so Romilda has both the O.W.L.s as well as the N.E.W.T.s to be an Auror."
Lisa's "sorry" did nothing to soften that blow, and Morag's face flushed, her face hot with embarrassment. The fiery part of her that had returned in recent years wanted to lash out and remind them that she hadn't been the only missing eagle to turn up after a long while—sure, Morag and Stephen had taken their time, but Lisa and Su hadn't returned to their circle of friends immediately after the war, either, after being assumed dead—but she squelched that fire, because at least Lisa had come back and done something with her life, had become a Healer. Su…was Lisa's support system, which was still something.
No retort shot back at her, Lisa shared another look with Su—or so Morag supposed, based on the shadows on the living room floor. Then Lisa and Su got to their feet and went about their business as if Morag weren't there…although that was an unfair assessment, as Su later placed a bowl of spicy chicken tossed with vegetables and noodles in front of her. But then they let her be, never pressing her for an answer to Lisa's question and letting her have the couch for the night.
- ^-^3
"Good morning."
Morag groaned and squinted. A shaft of light stared her directly in the eyes…ah, it was reflected light off Su's grandmother's clock. The sunlight was pouring in from the kitchen window. She sat up so the light wouldn't penetrate long enough to cause a migraine. "I feel like shit," she said by way of greeting.
Su slid back in her chair at the kitchen table a little and peered at her over the top of The Daily Prophet. Her dead stare said it all: "You rather look like shit."
"Gee, thanks," Morag snarled. She stretched—revered Rowena, sleeping on a couch sucked the big wet one—and a pink blanket fell from her shoulders. That sobered her up. Morag glanced at her friend. "Did you—"
But Su sipped her morning tea and shook her head.
"Oh. Is Lisa—"
"She has the first shift in Spell Damage today."
"Ah." Morag had first-hand experience being in one of the wards on that floor. "You'll have to thank her for me later."
Su nodded. She then gestured to the table, and Morag craned her neck to see another cup and saucer and a plate with toast beside a jam jar.
Morag knew an invitation when she saw one, so she folded the blanket and joined Su. Su poured the tea fresh from the pot while Morag slathered a thick layer of Blimberberry jam on a slice of toast. She bit into the glittery violet substance and waited, because Su kept alternately licking her lips and pursing them.
"…you know Romilda will forgive you," she said in the end.
Morag swallowed the lump in her throat and managed to swallow the bite of toast and jam, too. "…one can hope."
They finished the tea and toast in awkward silence. Su walked her to the door, and Morag bundled up again, but Su didn't rush to open the door for her. She stared at Morag. "You used to have a mouth on you when we were kids, but we were always quick to forgive you because you were quick with your apologies and we knew you meant them. Maybe that unbridled part of you is just coming back from time to time. And Romilda briefly saw that part of you when we were younger. So I'm sure she'll forgive you, Morag. Just—give her time and let her have her say, too, yeah?"
Perhaps coming here had been the right choice. A dose of scolding, a dose of courage—Lisa and Su were the right friends to lean on…
As if she knew where Morag's thoughts had led her, Su gently pulled her into a hug. It was comforting, it was familial, and it made Morag blink back tears before Su could notice.
Yeah, coming here definitely had been the right choice.
"Good luck, Morag," Su said, and she smiled softly as Morag grinned on her way out the door.
- ^-^3
Morag dragged her feet outside her and Romilda's small house. Crawling to your friends to beg to sleep on their couch? That was one thing. Returning home and knowing your spouse and mother-in-law were waiting for you behind that door? Morag felt less like a grown witch and more like a toddler who was only delaying the inevitable the longer she dawdled outside.
At least her mother-in-law spared her the awkwardness of having to knock on her own front door. "Morag, luv!" Kezia Vane squeaked, hand over her heart. "Don't give me such a fright, dear!"
Sometimes Morag liked that Kezia and Romilda looked a lot alike, even if Kezia's complexion were far darker and her hair streaked with gray and white that she then strung with runic beads. But other times, like now, Morag didn't appreciate the similarities, and she held her breath, wondering what Kezia had to say, knowing Romilda undoubtedly had shared things with her mother.
But Kezia smiled and wrapped a patchwork scarf around her neck and gestured to Romagda's carriage just inside the door. "We were just heading out for a stroll around the block, as I suspected you might be back soon. And I figured you two might want to have it out without prying ears around," the older woman finished.
Morag dropped her eyes to the top of Romagda's carriage. Yep, she definitely felt like a guilty child right now.
Kezia grabbed her gloves off a hook inside the door and then wheeled the carriage out, and Romagda cooed at her other mother as they exited. Morag stepped inside and shut the door behind her, greeted next by silence.
On the bright side, Morag thought glumly while she hung up her outerwear and kicked off her boots, at least she was home. She truly appreciated staying at Lisa and Su's, but it always smelled too…clean there, probably thanks to Lisa's Healer habits carrying over into her at-home habits.
But here? Romilda always smelled of spice, and that was partly thanks to Kezia's Herbology and potion side business, a mix of earthy magicks passed down from mother to mother through their Romani ancestry, things Romilda and Morag never would've learned at Hogwarts. Even if Kezia never parted with any of this knowledge, Morag had grown to take such comfort in it that even one night away from the scents and talismans around their home had made her homesick.
"Oh, Mum, don't forget—" Romilda rounded the corner with an orange knitted cap in her hand. She narrowed her eyes at Morag when she saw her and clammed up.
Morag cocked her head to one side, already quite tired of this reaction. "Really? Not speaking to me now?"
Romilda pretended she wasn't even there and put the cap with the other pile of things they could grab when going out into the elements with Romagda.
Ah. So not just the silent treatment but the cold shoulder.
"GODDAMMIT!"
Morag jolted at Romilda's outburst. Or maybe not the cold shoulder after all?
Romilda whirled on her, pointing a finger right in her face. "I know what I said last night, but you really couldn't have told me that you were safe?! I had to get a little egret from Su to know you were at her and Lisa's? You couldn't send your condor or even your Patronus and tell me yourself?"
Morag's mouth popped open. "Um." Despite "logic" being the cause of their argument, apparently logic had abandoned her the moment Romilda had walked off, and it had never even occurred to Morag to use the old D.A. trick of casting the simple Avis Spell to send a signal she was fine—like a Patronus, the bird conjured was unique to the caster, so she could imagine Romilda's worry at finding someone else's bird and not her wife's.
"Well?!" Romilda snapped. Her finger was still in Morag's face, but, actually, it was shaking. Her whole hand was shaking. Romilda was shaking.
Morag softened. She hoped her expression showed contrition and didn't betray her and reveal how heartening it was to hear and see Romilda be so worried over her. "I'm sorry, Romilda," she said. "Really, I am. You're right; I should've sent a sign that I was safe."
Romilda nodded and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Good. And you should've. And right after you were just talking about us not being safe…" She scowled, but she focused on Morag's left shoulder.
Morag twisted her lips around. "I wasn't going to head back into the office and demand a patrol for the night, luv."
"I know," Romilda spat, but the heat wasn't there. She believed Morag. Finally, she met Morag's eyes, deep brown searching green. "But what the fuck, Morag? Going and having this conversation with yourself and making this decision on your own—it doesn't make any sense."
The guilt returned, and Morag reached for Romilda's left hand, glad when the younger woman didn't pull away. She caught sight of their reflections in the mirror by the front door and stared while she gave Romilda the answer she couldn't share with Su and Lisa: "These last few weeks… I've seen how you are with Romagda, luv. I've seen the connection you have with our baby girl. You—You have that maternal touch." She hesitated. "You will be the mum that I never can be."
"Morag, what?" Romilda gaped at her, and Morag faced her wife.
"Really, I mean it. Part of it is losing the rest of my family in the war. Part of it is the closeness you have with your mum. But, really? I have so much faith in you that you—"
Romilda shut her up. She yanked on Morag's hands, pulling them behind her back to throw Morag's balance off so Romilda could grab either side of her face and kiss her to shut her up. After, she knocked her forehead against Morag's, hard enough that they both winced. "Luv, why do you have such little faith in yourself? You're constantly trying to put us first and yourself last. You're a great parent already! I don't want to think of Romagda losing either of us, but don't count yourself out if she ever has only you. Please, don't." Romilda smirked then, a twinkle in her eye. "I like to think I'm a rather decent judge of character, and I chose you, didn't I? So it's a little insulting if you start doubting me in that regard, luv."
Morag opened her mouth to protest, but Romilda groaned a groan of impatience and snogged her again, sticking her tongue in as a distraction. When a little moan of pleasure bubbled up in the back of Morag's throat, Romilda smiled against her lips and relented just enough for them to make it to the loveseat in the living room, where Morag dropped down and pulled Romilda onto her lap. The kissing didn't stop, but it mellowed mostly into nuzzles and cuddles until finally they relaxed and the tension from their fight dissipated.
Romilda hummed to herself with her head against Morag's chest, though Morag swore it sounded closer to a purr. "I will concede," Romilda began, "that you do have a point."
"Oh? Which point was that?"
"That we need to consider all the worst-case scenarios and have a proper sit-down about them." Romilda picked her head up and raised her eyebrows. "At least the two of us if not also Mum, since we've not really done this planning before."
Morag hadn't been looking for winners and losers, not even from the get-go, but relief washed over her at Romilda's suggested compromise. She nodded. And she was reminded of one of Lisa's points. "I'm all for that, plus no more assigning gender roles unless we both agree to it," she added sheepishly, since that'd been an honest mistake on her part.
Romilda gave a curt nod. "You're right." She sat up then and patted Morag's arm. "And, to show you're sorry for this fight, you can take on the dad's role of changing dirty nappies for the next two weeks. Thank you~"
Morag sighed, but at least Romilda's thanks was punctuated with another energizing kiss before their beloved poop machine returned from her outing…!
- ^-^3
c: Something a little bit out of my normal range of things written for the HariPo fandom, but fun to do and about high time I wrote it bc I'm celebrating fifteen yrs writing fanfic, and wow it doesn't feel like fifteen yrs. XD A lot of details are in this since I wanted to make this a Maydayverse (my overall headcanon) fic, and the placement actually helped me figure out some other things, esp about the eagles; when it comes to details about Romilda and her mum, those are just longstanding hcs I've had but haven't rly had the chance to write in a fic yet. -w- Let's see… One rly has to wonder about how the Ministry handled Aurors having families, tho, not to mention how the Wizarding world addressed same-sex relationships post-war; I'd like to think that a Ministry guided by Kingsley and the Trio and friends would adapt faster than the Muggle world around it, hence Morilda flourishing as a couple and now as a family (this is set in late 2007). Anywho, I also think both parts of their fight are valid—not just the Auror part, but the gender role part, esp if you're in a relationship and haven't chosen to fall in line with gender roles, so it was a little heartwarming to see them make up over that, too…altho that last bit is so deserved, mainly for the worry Morag caused Romilda. XD (Oh, and the unique twist on the Avis Spell is one I've been using for yrs; it pops up across a lot of my fics, Maydayverse and not, so yeah. ;D I've got a unique birb for everyone in the Trio's yr and even all the Next-Gen, plus some others. :P Feel free to ask about them!) What else… Ah, Blimberberry jam is magical and made-up, *lol*; I wonder what it's usually used for! XD Ohh, also, I've drawn Romagda a little (and for art, please find me as amewzing on pillowfort), but now I rly wanna draw Kezia! And draw Romilda more. And Morag more. And Morilda more. *LOL* (This rly is the writer–artist's dilemma, I tell you.) Lastly, I rly like to think of some housing set aside nearby St. Mungo's meant for Healers and their families (perhaps it's 2020 rubbing off on me…), but I wanted it to reflect St. Mungo's itself a little, hence describing it so shabbily, altho the keystone is a giveaway.
Well! I'm delighted that this idea wouldn't stop bugging me. I actually had another idea that I wanted to write for my 15th anni to celebrate (it was Draco/Scabior), but this story gelled better than the loose bones that still aren't a story for the other idea, *LOL*. But I'm so happy, bc this fic also helped spur me on to sit down and begin a proper timeline for the Maydayverse as a whole, and more stories—for Morilda, for the Ravenclaws, for those in Harry's year, for everyone—will be coming now that I feel well and properly combobulated at last. XD Happy fifteen to me~ And don't forget to check out the Maydayverse tag on AO3 and on my HariPo fic tumblr (camelliacats) for more goodness, both shippy and not!
Thanks for reading, and please review!
-mew-tsubaki :3