It's my mother's birthday today, and I feel like writing some fluff. I wasn't planning to continue this story at all but now there's at least one more chapter to come after this one. I hope you're all staying safe and that this story will make you smile.
Emelius gave the vicar a polite, if perhaps a tad triumphant, smile as he stepped out of the church with his wife on his arm and their three children skipping down the church steps in front of them. The bright sunlight welcomed the family into the warm summer Sunday; Eglantine raised her hand to cover her eyes, making a displeased face.
"It was all I could do not to nod off in there," she confided in Emelius once she was convinced they were out of the vicar's acute earshot.
Emelius chuckled. "My dear Eglantine, for a distinguished lady, you show remarkably little interest in religious matters."
"It's not the church I can't stand," Eglantine hissed back. "It's him!"
Emelius couldn't deny agreeing with the woman—he had tried throughout the whole service to give the vicar his most intimidating glare, but the relentless man hadn't taken his eyes off Mrs. Browne as he spoke in a monotone, unconvincing tone about the Almighty. He sometimes wondered why the vicar couldn't admit defeat, each time he looked at his wife, however, he realized the answer to that question. Emelius felt his chest puff up with pride. It wasn't the first time he'd outflanked the vicar.
Emelius was whistling a cheerful tune and walking arm in arm down the street with his soon-to-be-wife when she started gently but decisively leading him around the corner of the local bakery. "But my dear, the post office is that way," he remarked, mildly surprised, and studied the frown that hadn't been on his bride's face a minute ago.
Eglantine glanced back towards the street they had just left and asked, "Didn't you see Mr. Jelk stepping out of the post office? I'm in much too good a mood to run into him today."
Emelius raised his eyebrows in modest amusement. "My dear, I wasn't aware you were afraid of anything," he teased in a good-natured way. He was used to Eglantine's capricious temper, and by now he also knew that there was no one who could control it better than him.
Eglantine came to a sudden stop and glared at him. "I certainly wouldn't call it that," she declared steadily.
Emelius smiled and placed his hands on the witch's upper arms. His eyes swept over the deserted narrow street they were standing in, and he remarked, "I could hide you."
"I beg your pardon?" Eglantine was looking at him as if he'd proposed something as absurd as becoming fellow magicians to tour the country.
"Do you think Mr. Jelk likes rabbits?" Emelius asked with a mischievous grin. "Filigree..."
"No," Eglantine protested sharply.
"Apogee pedigree perigee."
Emelius caught the white rabbit in his hands and pulled it gently against his chest. When Mr. Jelk turned the corner, he found a beaming Emelius balancing Miss Price's shopping basket on one arm, and a dainty rabbit huddled in the man's arms.
"Top of the morning to you, vicar," chirped Emelius.
"Good morning," Mr. Jelk said in his mellow, ethereal voice. Briefly he peeked over the older man's shoulder and added nonchalantly, "Didn't I see Miss Price with you just now?"
"You've just missed her, old chap. Miss Price had some important errands to run," Emelius replied openly, tenderly scratching the rabbit behind its ears. "You might still be able to catch her if you hurry." Eglantine nuzzled against Emelius's coat happily.
Mr. Jelk nodded and stepped past Emelius, giving the white animal in his arms a curious sideways glance. His gait down the narrow street was, to put it mildly, somewhat hasty.
Emelius stepped back out into the wide street and set his steps towards the post office. "I think we ought to start running some of those errands, don't you?" he spoke quietly to the rabbit. In turn, it was brought out of its blissful trance and shook its head fervently, so that its ears flapped against Emelius's hand. The man stopped, and looking down at the bundle of fluff, he noticed the first orange sparkles twirling about its head.
A few moments later the fluffy white creature was Eglantine again, as tall, slender and bewitching as ever, pressed against Emelius's chest and smiling up at the man brilliantly. Her hands slid up his lapels and straightened his tie. "Have I ever told you that you're the most resourceful man I've ever met?" she asked sweetly.
"Not me," Emelius admitted, "but the children tell me everything." He didn't have to bend his head much to touch his lips gently against Eglantine's.
Across the street Mrs. Hobday pressed her narrow nose against a window pane at the post office and grinned. "There's nothing quite like young love, is there?" she asked no one in particular.