"So, Dad. What were you working on in there? Mum said something about a Muggle alarm clock..."
Small talk: it's a great way to divert from the big news. So far he's glad that neither of his parents bothered to look down at their hands, because the rings are new and shiny and, he thinks, so very obvious. But it won't be long before they tell them, and he knows he'll be the one to do it because he has a habit (fortunate or unfortunate, depending on how one looks upon it) of blurting out the truth. So he plays a little game with himself sometimes, seeing how long it takes.
But really, he's not thinking about scheming and testing himself now: it's the first time he's seen his parents in a year and at the moment he's got a familiar and comfortable feeling in his stomach. This is home and he's missed it, and all the things that happened with Fleur and with Tonks in Dover and with his earlier captivity: they don't know about those things, and he has no intention of sharing any of the bad or difficult things with his parents. Only their good news.
Arthur pushes open the front door. "Mollywobbles, look who I found hanging round the door to the shed." He claps both Bill and Fleur on their respective backs. "Inside, inside, lady and gentleman."
Molly reappears, levitating a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade and several glasses towards the table. She blushes slightly and Bill suspects it's over the use of that most private and intimate of nicknames. He takes a seat at the kitchen table, motioning for Fleur to sit down next to him. Beneath the table he takes her hand in his.
"Looks great, Mum. Fleur, can I pour you a glass, love?"
Tell them soon enough. "Hullo, we ran off and got married" isn't really the way I want to open the conversation.
no subject
Small talk: it's a great way to divert from the big news. So far he's glad that neither of his parents bothered to look down at their hands, because the rings are new and shiny and, he thinks, so very obvious. But it won't be long before they tell them, and he knows he'll be the one to do it because he has a habit (fortunate or unfortunate, depending on how one looks upon it) of blurting out the truth. So he plays a little game with himself sometimes, seeing how long it takes.
But really, he's not thinking about scheming and testing himself now: it's the first time he's seen his parents in a year and at the moment he's got a familiar and comfortable feeling in his stomach. This is home and he's missed it, and all the things that happened with Fleur and with Tonks in Dover and with his earlier captivity: they don't know about those things, and he has no intention of sharing any of the bad or difficult things with his parents. Only their good news.
Arthur pushes open the front door. "Mollywobbles, look who I found hanging round the door to the shed." He claps both Bill and Fleur on their respective backs. "Inside, inside, lady and gentleman."
Molly reappears, levitating a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade and several glasses towards the table. She blushes slightly and Bill suspects it's over the use of that most private and intimate of nicknames. He takes a seat at the kitchen table, motioning for Fleur to sit down next to him. Beneath the table he takes her hand in his.
"Looks great, Mum. Fleur, can I pour you a glass, love?"
Tell them soon enough. "Hullo, we ran off and got married" isn't really the way I want to open the conversation.