Moresome May: unsteady

Brand War, Killer Frost: baby blue, snow, icicles

Holmes: sisters

Word Count: 425

"Isn't it a bit…" Astoria offers Daphne an almost apologetic smile as they trek through the field, the snow crunching beneath their feet. "I'm sorry. Isn't it sort of strange."

Daphne exhales deeply. By now, she's used to these conversations. Astoria at least tries to understand the relationship she has with Blaise and Theo. Maybe it isn't perfect, but it's an effort. Still, there are moments like these where she feels like all the progress they've made has been for nothing, like it's shattered.

She rests a hand on her stomach, take care as she walks, the thin layer of ice and snow making her movements unsteady. She's only just found out about her pregnancy, and it isn't as though she can feel her baby her; the gesture is just a strange comfort, a reminder that there is a new chapter in her life waiting to be written.

"Strange?" she echoes, arching a brow.

Her sister's cheek darken to a dusty pink. Astoria clears her throat, coming to a stop near the fence. For several moments, neither of them speak. The younger girl focuses her attention on an icicle that clings to the wood, brushing her nails over the frozen fixture. "You're dating two men," she mutters. "Do you even know whose child it is? Blaise or Theo's?"

"Does it matter? We all love another, and we're going to raise this child together. End of story."

Astoria looks as though she wants to argue further. The pink in her skin darkens to a faint red, but she simply shrugs. "If you're happy," she says at last. "I guess that's all that matters."

"Yeah." Her tone is sharper than she intends. "It is."

…

Daphne watches in silence as her boyfriends bicker over the color of the paint for the nursery. Blaise waves his wand, and the paint pales to a soft, baby blue.

"There's traditional, and then there's cliche," Theo snorts, changing the color to emerald. "A good Slytherin color is best. Perfect for a boy or girl."

"Daph? Thoughts?" Blaise asks.

For a moment, she forgets how to speak. Instead, a small laugh bubbles from her lips. Perhaps the pregnancy seems strange to others; maybe she doesn't know which of her partners is the father. And yet it doesn't matter. Everything else is so ordinary, and it reminds her that it will all be okay.

"Green or blue?" Theo presses.

Daphne crosses the room and hugs each of them in turn, kissing their cheeks. "Anything," she says. "It will be perfect no matter what."