Lowering the tinsel in mock-exasperation, Millie fixed a glare at her husband, her lips twitching to betray her amusement. A little bit of colour ebbed at her cheeks and she picked up another colour absently, letting it drift from her fingers before taking up the silver bells in a little pile on the table. She unravelled them and lifted them up to the top, before hooking on end over a branch. Then, carefully, Millie began to wind the bells around the tree as far as they would go, smiling a little when they reached their end and began to chime. She grinned brightly and then reached for the gold tinsel, deciding that she’d be neutral and go without any house distinction.
Unless of course either of the twins were in Hufflepuff. That made Millie second guess herself. It was too late, though, and she decisively began to bring the tinsel about the tree, weaving it through the branches until it sat prettily in amongst the ferns. Then, the blonde witch stood back, nearly stepping into her husband, issuing an apology to him at once as she reached to squeeze his hand, and appraised her choice. She wasn’t overly happy but it did look nice and she supposed that there could be red and green in there somewhere unless they were going to go purely for silver and gold. Now she felt unsure about the whole aesthetic of the rooms and looked absently over at her house cushion which Narcissa was sat on licking her paws, wondering if that needed to be stored away or at least charmed to match.
“Oh this sucks,” she uttered, throwing her fingers through the front of her hair. She knew there was no saving it now and made a mental note to plait it before she went out. She glanced down at the ends and winced, inspecting just how split they were and glad she had her hair up in buns when working. There was no hairdresser in her immediate future, though. She was half tempted to lop it all off or, better, dye it red but she had a feeling Keiran would have something to say – or, worse, nothing at all and merely a clench of his jaw as he claimed he liked it as an afterthought – about doing that to herself.
“Isn’t the ability to decorate a Christmas tree one of the things you’re invested with in a hospital when you have your baby?” She asked rhetorically, returning to the tree to fiddle with the tinsel, pursing her lips at it, as though glaring at the thing would make it better. “Maybe two negates the Christmas tree skill,” she suspected. “I am going to drink Irish cream,” she decided, “after dinner … I’m going to drink half the bottle, get utterly tipsy, and decorate this sodding thing while I’m drunk and then we can tell everyone it was totally intentionally shit and laugh about it, deal?”
“Let’s go do presents,” she decided, taking a band off of her wrist before quickly beginning to plait her hair. “Sod this for a bunch of bananas. Let’s do presents.” She secured the plait at the bottom and then looked down at herself, deciding she was about as presentable as she was going to get that afternoon. So, it was now just a case of getting Baldric and he seemed to sense trouble or perhaps it was merely fortuitous because he was walking back past their room from the library when she went out to go and get him.
After putting on her shoes and her jacket and all of the winter stuff, Millie held her hand out for Keiran and together they flooed back into Hogsmeade via the Hog’s Head. Then, once out in the street, Millie apparated them. She couldn’t help but wince, always having hated it, but it was the fastest way to do so without ruining the surprise. From Scottish snow they started and they landed in deep, Irish ice.
“You probably know where we are, eh?” She broached, looking up out from under the faint sprinkle of snow beginning to fall to look at the lit windows of their house. “And that there aren’t any happy memories here yet. You see … part one of my gift was me hoping to facilitate some good memories.”
She found a path up to the door, upon which a big red bow had been stuck with a charm and she looked down at her boots with a shy smile before taking the keys out of the pocket of her jacket. After unlocking the door, she let him open it and stepped up, minding to wipe her feet first, into their fully furnished, warm and inviting house. No, not a house. A home. Their home. The furniture made it that. The way it looked right for living in, only in need of their personal belongings from Hogwarts to put pictures on the mantle or books on the shelves. Every detail had been seen to other than what their things could bring. She’d painstakingly, lovingly put down every root she had within her in every piece, every rug, every curtain and every cushion in there. It was an apology as much as it was a present. A long, long overdue apology.
“I hope you like it,” she murmured softly, already feeling the heat of the fire she’d had a stray Hogwarts House Elf that morning make up and preserve as well as turn on the lights so that it would be welcoming to step into. “It’s not everything. Sort of impersonal, isn’t it, in some ways. I mean, I can change things. We can. If you don’t like it, that is. I just … I wanted to make up for … well, everything. I know how much you did want this for us… I mean, I think I do. I just … this was meant to be our home and I was difficult and unhelpful and childish before so I wanted to make it so it really was ours. And to apologise. So I… I did my best. But that’s not all. If you’d, um… if you want to follow me.”
She hastily toed off her shoes and hung up her coat on the stand before hopping over to the stairs she’d put a rug up, finding as she’d flitted around the house with Elijah – who’d had the misfortune of being forced to do the painting – and Theodore as well as Baldric and her brother, all of whom had been roped in to help as much as possible that she was half-sliding down them in her socks. It was only when she’d actually fallen down them, only to be caught by Baldric at the bottom and shakily set back on her feet that the decision was made to put the rug in – and some spells to lessen the slipperiness.
She jumped up the stairs and waited on the landing before moving across to the room she felt would suit Keiran for a study. It had all of the usual study requirements – bookshelves, a desk and a chair – but it also let in an extraordinary amount of light which she adored and she’d spent a long time picking the curtains, wanting to abate the broodiness so that it was a light and airy room despite a lot of the dark woods being used. The bookshelves were empty but for a set of six weighty tomes she couldn’t believe she’d found. They were donkey’s years old – and she knew that because they weren’t even cut – which was bonkers. She still couldn’t believe she’d gotten them. Then, on the desk in a case was a truly beautiful quill, the feather unlike anything she’d set eyes on. Those were his real presents. Those were the ones she’d agonised over.
“I haven’t read these,” she spoke softly, setting her hand down on the shelf by the books. “You’ll see why when you open them but um… they’re written by these really old transfigurers and I couldn’t find new ones anywhere after I’d gotten them because I figured you wouldn’t maybe want to ruin these but the guy who I got them from said they were one of a kind and I’ve looked and I … I think they are.” She blinked, swallowing hesitantly. “And the quill … it’s a bit of a funny splurge but I … um. I thought maybe you could write your own book with it, maybe.”