@potterstillstinks ( plotted starter )
She’s an adult. If she keeps telling herself this, at some point, it’ll sink in: she’s an adult, and this will be fine. This will all be fine. Not that she thinks there’s much of a chance that Draco will actually, really, truly freak out, like in earnest, not the way she’s freaking out —
— she had chalked it up to stress and called it a victory, pleased that the long hours spent on the Bellefleur case had ended up giving her a break from the cramping and the discomfort, and then it had occurred to her today as she was swinging out of the office to buy lunch next door, so she’d popped into a Duane Reade and squatted over the office toilet, and —
— it’s in a little plastic baggie, stuffed in her purse, because she gets the feeling that they’re going to need proof. It’s beside the other three tests she’d taken, before the day came to a close, and she was grateful, for once, that Draco was working late, because it meant that she had an hour or two at home to sit with her hands over her face, taking very, very deep breaths. She’d lit a candle for ambiance and put on a documentary about penguins in the background until she’d calmed, and then she’d settled in to wait for him.
No coffee. No alcohol, either. She can switch to tea for a while, but that many months without wine may just drive her insane. Astoria’s trying not to think about it when she hears the door open.
She doesn’t move from where she’s sitting, only gestures for Draco to sit down on the couch beside her, and once he’s done that she clears her throat and tries to speak, and fails spectacularly. Astoria shifts, casts a glance towards the waddling penguins moving together across the ice, takes a long breath. Tries again. Fails.
“So. Uh.” She runs a hand through her hair, clears her throat once more. Her voice is hoarse, now that she’s managed to say something. She should have planned something cute. She should have planned something with a world’s best dad mug, but she’s only just wrapped her brain around it herself. Astoria folds her hands in her lap and looks up at him again.
“ — remember when we talked about kids? And I said, I didn’t want too many, and you said, the more the better, and we agreed that two was a respectable number, and then we said that we would just... see what happened?”
