Saturday 28 September, late afternoon. Clapham
Andromeda has no conscious recollection of Ted's breathing pattern changing, or of the rustling of sofa fabric to indicate a shifting of position and that he's awake. The first notice she has that her husband is no longer slumbering is when a hand reaches out to touch and play with her hair, slides beneath it to caress neck and chin, and then settles at rest on her shoulder.
She drops the toy kangaroo into her lap and leans back, closing her eyes, resting her cheek against his arm, warm and solid and a comforting physical presence after this long week alone. "You're back then. From parts unknown and the land of nod."
That gets her a laugh. "I was lucky. Got a portkey as far as Bahrain, but it was still several Apparation hops from there. I'm sure it would be quicker and less hassle to fly."
"In a Muggle aeroplane, you mean?" She turns her head, looks up at him, notes the dark shadows of tiredness under his eyes with mild concern, but other than that he looks hale and hearty enough. She twists her legs underneath her and rises to her knees to get a little height, then finds that the arm on her shoulder has slipped beneath her armpit and is tugging, gently but insistently, encouraging her to join him. She doesn't put up anything of a struggle; it's a tight fit for the two of them along the length of the sofa, but their bodies meld well together, and she has no complaints about ending up with her head resting on Ted's chest as pillow, his arms wrapped around her lightly.
"In a Muggle aeroplane," he confirms. "I remember that you don't much care for them though."
"I went on a magic carpet ride once," she responds, after a moment's rueful grin. "Completely illegal, obviously, but Daddy knew somebody who knew somebody who knew somebody. And it was one summer when we were in France, where they seemed to turn a blind eye a little more to such things. The wind whipped my hair into my face and it stung, and the carpet bucked so much that I thought it would toss me off, and the ground shrunk and shrunk and shrunk until it was just a parcel of unrecognisable little squares, and then a blur of green, and I thought that my stomach was going to rise up through my throat. Much worse than Apparating. Or riding Sirius's equally illegal flying motorcycle. I think it was the lack of control over my own destiny that really got to me though. Someone else was telling it where to go and how to do it, and I guess that's what I've always though that being in a plane would be like."
Ted chuckles, and plays with her hair a little more. "Little idiot. It's nothing like that. Well, except for the someone else being in charge of flying it bit. But anyway, no plane flights for you in the near future then? Believe me, it'll be a long and tiring journey to Greece if we have to do it under our own steam."
And suddenly, just like that, the moment of peace and tranquility and basking happily in the relief of Ted's presence is over and reality crowds in once more. She pushes him away slightly, sitting up.
"But didn't you see in my owl? About Greece? I know that I had to be cryptic, just in case someone other than you saw it, but... the trip's off. My client has disappeared. And even if he hadn't... we couldn't possibly have gone. Narcissa knows him. She... she told me he was a Death-Eater."
She drops the toy kangaroo into her lap and leans back, closing her eyes, resting her cheek against his arm, warm and solid and a comforting physical presence after this long week alone. "You're back then. From parts unknown and the land of nod."
That gets her a laugh. "I was lucky. Got a portkey as far as Bahrain, but it was still several Apparation hops from there. I'm sure it would be quicker and less hassle to fly."
"In a Muggle aeroplane, you mean?" She turns her head, looks up at him, notes the dark shadows of tiredness under his eyes with mild concern, but other than that he looks hale and hearty enough. She twists her legs underneath her and rises to her knees to get a little height, then finds that the arm on her shoulder has slipped beneath her armpit and is tugging, gently but insistently, encouraging her to join him. She doesn't put up anything of a struggle; it's a tight fit for the two of them along the length of the sofa, but their bodies meld well together, and she has no complaints about ending up with her head resting on Ted's chest as pillow, his arms wrapped around her lightly.
"In a Muggle aeroplane," he confirms. "I remember that you don't much care for them though."
"I went on a magic carpet ride once," she responds, after a moment's rueful grin. "Completely illegal, obviously, but Daddy knew somebody who knew somebody who knew somebody. And it was one summer when we were in France, where they seemed to turn a blind eye a little more to such things. The wind whipped my hair into my face and it stung, and the carpet bucked so much that I thought it would toss me off, and the ground shrunk and shrunk and shrunk until it was just a parcel of unrecognisable little squares, and then a blur of green, and I thought that my stomach was going to rise up through my throat. Much worse than Apparating. Or riding Sirius's equally illegal flying motorcycle. I think it was the lack of control over my own destiny that really got to me though. Someone else was telling it where to go and how to do it, and I guess that's what I've always though that being in a plane would be like."
Ted chuckles, and plays with her hair a little more. "Little idiot. It's nothing like that. Well, except for the someone else being in charge of flying it bit. But anyway, no plane flights for you in the near future then? Believe me, it'll be a long and tiring journey to Greece if we have to do it under our own steam."
And suddenly, just like that, the moment of peace and tranquility and basking happily in the relief of Ted's presence is over and reality crowds in once more. She pushes him away slightly, sitting up.
"But didn't you see in my owl? About Greece? I know that I had to be cryptic, just in case someone other than you saw it, but... the trip's off. My client has disappeared. And even if he hadn't... we couldn't possibly have gone. Narcissa knows him. She... she told me he was a Death-Eater."