"Of course there is," she said, unable to hide her deep love for him in her voice, so surprised at his question she was nearly thunderstruck. Plus, she was out of breath from kneeding countless bowls of bread, putting them into loaf pans and then into the oven. "There always has been, Rob. It's your home, whenever you want it. Otto misses you, by the way,"she said. And then she added very softly, "And so do I. Very, very much." The attention starved ottoman was attaching itself to her now like an abandoned puppy. "We have about ten beds and bedrooms. They're all pretty much empty now, but I'd rather have you share mine--if you wouldn't mind," she said, her voice almost a whisper, her request tentative and fragile this time. She didnt' want all those layers of ice she'd built around her heart to melt away or shatter, and if he held her or if he was kind to her, he would destroy all her hard work to protect herself. It would happen the instant she felt the beat of his heart against her own. He was the only one who held the key to that, and she wasn't going to betray herself by letting him know a thing about how easy it was for him to wipe away everything that kept her functioning through no matter what he could throw at her. Her anguish and nearly uncontrollable rage kept her going, and she didn't want him taking that away from her by being loving to her. It would melt it all away, and would make her let it all go. Make her what she used to be, and right now that felt vulnerable. Her rage felt like it kept her safe. She didn't want to feel like she was going to end up as Narcissa. Not ever again. Being hardhearted was safer, and she knew Rob could undo it with a touch or a simple kiss or a word. He had far more power than he knew. She feared that more than anything else in her world right now--that he would hold her and wipe away all that ice that kept her together just by his warmth. "But you can have whichever one you want," she added, in case he didn't want her's.
She was just as afraid he would reject her again, so she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Instead, she directed her attention next to batches of several different types of scones--apricot, chocolate chip, raspberry, and cinnamon-almond scones for a change. She was starting to feel overheated and dizzy. She conjured a glass of ice water and took a drink. Before she had become pregnant she had been extremely efficient in the kitchen and could multitask better than most other muggle style cooks she had ever seen. Now Abbey slowed her down and stripped her of the best of her energies more than she had thought her daughter would. She could feel it already. Silently, she did not believe she could carry off a 12 or 14 hour shift in a restaurant kitchen while 6 months pregnant, but she was not going to utter a syllable. It was her issue, no one else's.
"I am sorry you and Daddy just don't seem to ever get along, and I am so very sorry it stresses you so far," she said softly, rolling out the scones with a heavy, commercial rolling pin. "Someday you will be just as protective about Abbey, I'm sure. I'm sorry it all seems to be overwhelming now. Daddy's been through a lot with me, more than anyone ever deserved from a child, and that's my fault. I brought that all on all of us myself. And if you need to use someone as a test subject, use me. I'll volunteer--willingly. Maybe it would be fair payment for everything I keep putting people through. Leave Daddy alone. Please. It's not his fault--its mine. If anybody deserves that, its me. Not him." She didn't know if he would pick up on how deeply heartfelt that request was. She had put both Rob and Robert through so much that if anyone deserved some untested potion, it was her. And she probably tolerated pain better than either of them, she knew that. Plus that, she really felt so little right now, she doubted it would impact her anyway, even if he had used his worst on her.
She made fast work of cutting all the scones with her largest chef's knife and set some of them quickly on a sheet pan with a brush of melted butter overtop and a sprinkling of sanding sugar for decoration. She put them in the oven. The ovens were full now, with another batch for each oven waiting ahead. She swiftly mixed sweet sugar glazes to brush on the tops of some of the other scones.
She washed her hands and accioed a pan of short ribs too heavy for her to lift by hand and set them on her work table. She cleaned the silverskin off of them and put them in large dutch ovens with Lizzie's prepared vegetables that she had intended for soup and added a finely blended rich bourdelaise sauce and put them on a stove top so they could begin to braise in the rich, heady red wine and carefully balanced spices , along with putting potatoes on the stove to boil for smashed roast garlic potatoes to accompany the soul warming short ribs.
She checked the clock. She was running out of time before Sparks would open for the day. Two hours left, with four hours of cooking to do. She wished she had a time turner. She began working on two soups simultaneously--a Tomato Basil soup with a red wine base, and a Sharp Cheddar Cheese soup with a beer base. She had to resort to shortcuts today where she could get it. She defied her own promises and started a huge wheel of cheddar grating itself, and tomatos washing themselves, while she put large quantities of beef stock and wine in one enormous soup pot and several bottles of their finest ales into a second pot. She drew out vegetables magically from the walk in fridge and set them to washing themselves so she could cut them. She accio'd a huge quantity of carrots, onion and celery into washing itself and dicing itself to prepare a massive bowl of mirepoix.
Her plan was to get the soups on and then brew the teas and the coffees for the day and then continue with making the pastries and desserts for the day. "I'm not ignoring you, Rob," she said, "I have too little time today--that's all. I'm glad you're here. Really glad. " The chef's knife clattered to the floor in her fatigue. She cursed softly. She magically raised it,having known that bending to pick anything off of the floor was next to impossible now because of how large Abbey was making her. There were just a lot of things, including getting up out of certain chairs and sofas, that she was seriously considering conjuring a hydralic lift to help her with. It was just an impossible chore, and it was only going to get worse. Abbey was going to get bigger--a lot bigger. She carefully checked the blade on the knife and realized it had been badly knicked. That would make using it difficult and dangerous until she had time to have it professionally sharpened. "My favorite knife, too," she sighed, disappointed and frustrated. She sent it to wash itself, picking a knife she didn't like nor trust as well to use instead. "By the way" she said, picking her words carefully,"I've given Lizzie several days off. I'll bring her back eventually. She needs a rest. You won't find her. I'll take care of Sparks until she returns."
She passed him on the way to the walk in again. She had filled an enormous collander loaded with fruit for the filling for pie crusts Lizzie had started,started to bring it back to the worktable, and she felt uncontrollable dizziness striking her again, harder. She accidently fell hard suddenly right into Rob's chest, dropping the collander of fruit, sending the fruit scattering all over the floor. She grasped his shirt tightly,holding onto him so she didn't collapse on the floor like the fruit, not sure if she could right herself or not. "Give me just a second. I'm fine," she said. "It's a pregnancy thing. I just need a second. It always passes." She wasn't sure she was right this time. She didn't know truly if it was a pregnancy thing or not, but she didn't want him to hold her. Didn't want to feel his arms around her. Didn't want him to kiss her. Didn't want his kindness. Didn't want to lose everything she had worked so hard to protect herself from--all that love for him that made her so vulnerable.
by 
