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[clumsy_auror]

"Last load," she announces, plunking the laundry basket down on the living room floor, "and Sunny's having juice and a snack in her Office, today, because she asked very nicely, and Anthony's asleep, finally."

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[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard throws his sketchpad aside, looking left to right and back warily.

"You mean... we're alone?"

This doesn't happen often.

[clumsy_auror]

"For the moment. And knock on wood when you say that," Nymphadora advises, sitting down cross-legged on the floor and starting to pair up socks.

Black, black, red, stripey, black, pink, tiny.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard knocks on his head absentmindedly, and reaches into the basket.

Hello, orange polka-dotted knickers. He slingshoots them at Nymphadora's head.

[clumsy_auror]

'Dora catches them and, in turn, tosses a pair of boxers at her husband. "You have boring underwear."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

An absolutely filthy glance.

"'S what's in it that counts."

[clumsy_auror]

"So you never fail to remind me."

An amused glance in return, as she folds her knickers and pulls one of his shirts out of the basket.

Then she examines it critically.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard doesn't notice.

He's too busy figuring out the mechanism of her nursing bra.

For Science, you see.

[clumsy_auror]

"...This really isn't black, anymore."

'Dora holds up the shirt for his inspection.

"How long've you had this?"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"...Uh." He looks up, and shrugs. "Dunno."

[clumsy_auror]

A raised eyebrow. "Hmm."

She sets aside the folded shirt and pulls another out of the basket, making a mental list.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard eyes her warily, then pulls out some of her jeans.

There are holes in the knees.

He rolls his eyes and folds them up, saying nothing.

[clumsy_auror]

Hey. Those jeans are stylishly lived in.

"Anything good in the paper today? Haven't looked, yet."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"Oh."

He throws the sweater he was folding aside, and reaches over for the pile on the end of the couch. "Birth announcement. Here."

[clumsy_auror]

"Oooooh!"

Eagerly, Nymphadora reaches for the paper and reads over the announcement.

"They got it all right. Blimey, it's a miracle."

She giggles at the moving photograph of their son.

"Bloody hell, he was really wrinkly, at first, wasn't he?"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, he looked like a shaved monkey. Still does."

Bernard braces for impact.

[clumsy_auror]

But 'Dora tilts her head, and squints.

"...Yeah, kinda."

Pause.

"But an adorable shaved monkey."

Because what shaved monkey isn't, frankly?

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"True. Also, weepy and confused."

Because what shaved monkey isn't that, too?

[clumsy_auror]

"Well. We'll have to cut that out for the scrapbook. So we can embarass him in future with visual aids."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

The basket is half-folded, now. He pulls out his black apron (hey, some things are splattery) and folds it into a small neat square, placing it with the other kitchen-y stuff.

"You're not gonna be one of those mothers, are you?"

[clumsy_auror]

"Which mothers are 'those'?" she inquires, peering up at him over the top of one of Sunny's jumpers.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"The kind who trot out baby pictures at every opportunity while the poor adolescent cringes in embarrassment and longs to flee?"

[clumsy_auror]

Absently, as she scratches her nose, "Oh, no. Only for his dates."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"Like I said." A knowing look. "One of those mothers."

[clumsy_auror]

'Dora smirks, slightly. "Your mum did it the other night."

She pauses, stacking the clean clothes back in the basket, quiet for a moment.

"Nice of her to bring some of their photo albums and scrapbooks for us to keep here."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

He rolls his eyes, and it's not just an eye-roll. It's a soul-roll.

"I'm gonna be thirty in five months. You'd think she'd give it up."