The alluring smells that had filled the house lured the apprentice witch out of her workroom and into the kitchen where her husband was busy in front of the stove, preparing their family's lunch. Eglantine hovered in the doorway for a minute and watched blissfully as Emelius swung from one foot to the other and whistled a happy tune. Eglantine had never been much of a cook herself, and this ability in her husband made her even happier about the way things had turned out for them.

It took quite a while for Emelius to realize his wife was watching him, but once he had, he turned and offered the little lady a slice of apple he'd been planning to fry. He knew these green apples were his wife's favourites, and they reminded Emelius of his first evening here. He'd often practised juggling with apples after that but been careful to keep out of Cosmic Creeper's way. As for fried apples, they always reminded Emelius of his childhood—back when he had been very little, his mother had served them to him as if they were a majestic meal. Once, he'd even gotten to try them with a little cinnamon. He was secretly hoping that their children—as they'd grown accustomed to calling them—would one day also associate this taste with their childhood.

Eglantine accepted her husband's offering gladly and made her way into the kitchen. To her great surprise, she couldn't find any other place to sit than right on top of the table. "Where are all the chairs?" left her lips before her curiosity about the upcoming meal could reveal itself.

Emelius turned back to his frying pan and answered without any concern, "The children are building a barricade." He registered the confusion in his wife's silent gasp, even though she was sitting completely out of his view.

"What ever for?"

Emelius chuckled. He sometimes wondered how Eglantine had managed to live all these lonely years without even a bit of childish fun and games. Even when he'd been alone, Emelius had always found a way to turn his miserable life into a game. "They probably met Cosmic Creepers," he replied with a foxy smirk that his wife couldn't possibly have seen.

"Emelius!" There was a familiar reproachful tone in that word, and Emelius was once again reminded of how different his and Eglantine's cat's positions were in this house.

He chuckled good-willingly, and adding apples to the shrinking portion in the pan, he said, "It's a game, Eglantine, my dear. I used to pretend I was a wizard when I was a child. I had an old pencil for a magic wand, and every once in a while it got smaller and smaller, until one day I didn't have a wand any more, and I realized I had grown up, too. Charlie is playing a colonel, Paul is a lieutenant-colonel, and I believe Carrie is a survived captain from the Royal Navy. I do believe children's games alter, depending on the time they're living in."

"Oh, Emilius," Eglantine cut in carefully as soon as it seemed Emelius had finished for the moment, "do you think it will have a large impact on their lives?" She had been listening attentively, only once or twice having been distracted by the scrumptious scent arising from the pan. She could very well imagine Emelius as a wizard, for she herself had told her husband how she'd, in her childhood, liked to play pranks on her father with the simplest of spells.

"The war?" Emelius asked over his shoulder unconcernedly and reieved a nod from his wife, who by innocent unintention looked extremely adorable sitting on the table in her sage house dress and blue sweater. "No, I don't. If anything it will make them value life and family to a greater extent than they would otherwise." He was contented when his wife didn't question him further—that meant she was actually thinking about his words.

There was a comfortable silence then, disturbed only by the frizzling from the frying pan and the few cheerful exclamations from the living room. "On guard!" "Mayday-mayday! The Germans are attacking!" Emelius had a pleased smile on his lips, put there by the thought of his family enjoying the meal. Compared to his life before he'd met Eglantine and the Rawlins children, this responsibility was like a fresh spring breeze after the long and lonesome winter, which his life had been.

Suddenly, without any forewarning, a sweet voice spoke into Emelius's ear, "It smells heavenly. Can I taste it?"

Emelius jumped and raised his wooden spatula as a sword against his wife. "On guard!" he exclaimed just like Paul had only moments ago. "I will protect this treasure until my last breath." And he took a theatrical position with one of his hands reached out in front of him with his weapon, and the other one raised high above his head.

Eglantine simply laughed at his childish game. "But just a little," she begged with a tone of pretend doleful pleading, peeking into the frying pan.

"No, my fair damsel," Emelius replied firmly, but he was sure his wife could detect the playful smirk in his tone, "not a bite lest you burn yourself." But as the peckish apprentice witch refused to leave the stove, he was obligated to resort to more desperate measures. He set down the spatula.

His name left Eglantine's lips in a startled shriek as Emelius wrapped his arms around his wife's abdomen from behind and lifted her off the floor decisively. Emelius turned and set the protesting woman down farther away from the stove and his eatable treasure. His uneatable treasure, however, was not too amused by his trick.

She turned to face her husband and raised a significant finger. "I ought to-to-to turn you into a rabbit for that," Eglantine warned him, although Emelius could both see it in her flushed face and hear it in her voice that she was not really as annoyed as she was desperately trying to look. She had that rare expression on her face, which meant she was trying to look awfully serious in an actually rather delightful situation. Those moments had become rarer lately as Eglantine had been turned into quite the softie by a certain trio of rambunctious children and an oldish man she had decided to share her life with.

"Not if I'm quicker."