For Sasha, from some HP prompt: "Tell me, what exactly is the function of a rubber duck?"
Night of Charms
He's moved in since a few days. He's finally, officially filled her – their – wardrobe with his clothes, his toothbrush next to hers in the bathroom, his aftershave rests just behind her favorite perfume. They thought they could use a quiet evening, just the two of them – earlier that evening, it was pizza night with the kids, a solemn play date made special by Roland's request of ice cream, and Henry has keenly introduced his almost-step-brother to Harry Potter.
They have watched the first one – Regina has regally conceded the use of the living room –"If I find a single, minuscule stain of mozzarella or tomato on the couch, you know I can find out who's responsible. Be extremely careful, all of you" – and Roland has immediately declared that he absolutely needs a wand.
By the time Gryffindor wins the House Cup, the kids' eyes begin to get heavy – but Regina is, well, a little distracted by her boyfriend's skilled fingers, trailing paths on her arm, to pay attention to her son – Henry changes the DVD; Dobby splashes a creamy cake on Mrs Mason's coiffed hair, and Robin is kissing her hair and whispering in her ear, but when she notices…
"Henry!" she hisses. Her chin motions towards Roland, now fast asleep, sitting on the floor, his head pillowed above the couch's cushions. "Another one? I think that's enough for tonight, honey, don't you?"
Her son's guilty smile tells her everything she needs to know – he leans in for the remote, stopping the movie right in the middle of Harry's breakfast at the Burrow. He winks, before gently shaking Roland's arm and luring him towards the bed – and it's incredible how the littlest one just accepts to go, without putting up a fuss.
"Well, the kids are gone – you'd rather stay here, or… move to the bedroom?" Robin whispers, causing her lips to curve upwards in a smile.
"I think," she starts, shifting to face him, her hand exiting from the warm blanket to go up to his cheek, "I think we should… inaugurate… our nest upstairs," she decides. "Let me tuck the boys in, first?"
They keep the bedroom for a later hour – for now, it's glowing candles and soapy bubbles, when they sink together in the bath tub, her back pressed against his stomach, and she sighs contently, relishing the feeling of the warm water and his arms around her waist.
"You know," he whispers, lips dangerously near to her ear. "I still want to finish the movie, tomorrow."
She closes her eyes, inclines her head so that it rests in the crook of his shoulder. "Why's that?"
"Well, your son certainly loves cliffhangers," he explains. "Perhaps you can clarify a doubt? So that I don't have to wait for the answer?"
"Mmm… I'll do my best," she answers, lazily.
He smiles against her hair. "Well tell me, then… what exactly is the function of a rubber duck?"
Regina opens her eyes, turning slightly her head, with a questioning look. She follows his amused gaze, and spots the trigger of his question – Henry's old yellow duck, forgotten on the floor after Roland's afternoon bath. "When Ron's dad has asked, I've realized I don't know either," he explains.
She keeps her eyes on the plastic objects, thinking. He continues, "So, I've realized there's still so much of this world that I don't know," he says, a trace of sadness in his voice. She shifts in his arms, in the water, uncomfortable – she won't have that, him thinking he doesn't fit in her world – she feels guilty, because she has brought them all here again, ripping them from the forest, from their home…
"Hey," he says, tracing her features carefully with his gaze. "It's okay, I'll have time, love. I'll have you during the journey," he smiles, meeting her eyes. She shakes away her thoughts, pushes with a knee against the hard ceramic and turns to face him completely.
They don't speak – they look at each other – and as if they had the same, instantaneous thought, they lean in, together, their lips meet halfway, and when they part, their foreheads touch briefly.
"You know what, thief?" she whispers, eyes closed, nearing her mouth to his ear. Her lips go to kiss his jaw, she can feel his breath on her skin, on her shoulder.
"I don't have a bloody clue about rubber ducks."
