WHO: Drystan & Bess Fawcett
WHAT: Some important future discussions
WHERE: Their home
WHEN: Errrr probably before the All-Stars game?

Bess had never felt the itch before. She had thought it to be a myth, a rumor, a lie that was pushed around by society to make a woman feel guilty for not having a child by a certain age, that there was this idea that you had to have children before you grew too old and withered by the age of thirty. While she was far ahead of the average woman’s curve, there was this---there was no better word for it, itch.

She blamed it entirely on her niece, the little witch.

Rose Zeller was precious. She was precious, and beautiful, and blonde, just like every good little girl should be. Her bright eyes twinkled like stars and she cooed and giggled! Bess hated herself for not cherishing Sadie’s early years, and she’d made sure she was there for every important moment for Stephen and Brian, but they were boys. Boys that she loved, of course, but boys nonetheless. They would soon be big enough to start wrestling and fighting and eating all of the food in the house. They would smell, and bring home girls she did not approve of and they were boys!

Sadie needed another female influence in the house, Bess was sure. From on top of the picnic table on their patio, she watched her daughter tackle Stephen to the ground. The children were having fun in the summer sun, running through the grass and managing to find every mud puddle from last night’s storm. Bess winced as Sadie stood, covered from pigtails to toes in dirt, but there was no stopping her. Sadie was becoming one of them, a boy. Brian tried his best to chase after his siblings, having grown rather good at running on solid ground, but finding it difficult to get a footing in the grass. Her littlest one would be two in just over six months, no longer the baby, but a boy.

Bess pouted greatly, feeling an itch.

Drystan had the Evening Prophet spread out in front of him, but was more staring at the words than actually reading them. It was his preferred evening routine: shower if he hadn't at practice, eat, then simultaneously catch up with his wife, play with his children, eat, perhaps flick on the Wireless, and eventually settle down with the evening paper.

He was usually more successful at actually reading the paper, but practices had been grueling (well, more than usual). Because they were fifth in the rankings, undoubtedly, but he'd have wagered his first-born it was mostly because they were once again behind Kenmare. It was a dark moment for an Irishman, but he rather thought he'd like to burn the bloody place to the ground.

In general, however, he felt a lack of excitement and an increasing amount of fatigue toward playing. It wasn't that he loved or enjoyed the game any less, it was more that… he hadn't restarted yet, this season. With their vacation cut short, he entered the field already feeling a bit beaten down after a taxing year. On top of that, Saoirse, and Thomas, were victims of some freak abduction scheme, and she still wasn't fully recovered, which preyed on his mind often. His feeling of restlessness had amplified, Drystan supposed, and as it always did, it messed with his head.

Pulling his gaze away from the printed words swimming before his eyes, he clasped his hands together and rested his chin on them, watching the rough and tumble play of the little ones.

"They're both going to cry the day Brian gets the jump on them," he said, watching the little mop of black curls take another bump as his tiniest son made yet another face-plant.

“Mmmhm,” Bess murmured in agreement, her eyes locked onto the children. “And when he does we’re in a lot of trouble.”

She couldn’t believe how big they all were. Sadie was ready to start real home schooling and if Bess wasn’t back at work she may have to enlist Molly Weasley. She didn’t really see herself going back to the office, especially if this baby itch didn’t go away. Was that bad of her? She’d worked so hard to get the job with Brady, to pass the exams necessary to begin work, but she was content with life now. There had been so much stress and conflict for so many years...she was allowed to be happy and enjoy what she had, right?

Yes. Bess hated when these thoughts drifted to her mind, but it happened when she thought about how fast time was passing, when she worried about Brian no longer being her baby, with Drystan off on the pitch most of the time, when she thought about Penny’s N.E.W.T.s and how she herself had flunked her own and had never re-taken them. Would she be considered a failure if she stayed home and made more babies? Why should that even concern her? It was her own life, she and her husband had made it, so it should only be about what made them happy.

“Should I go back to work?” she blurted, as if that had been on her mind for the past hour, and not babies. Bess hesitated in twisting around to look at Drystan, but she was honestly beginning to grow worried, “If---we decided to have more children, should I go back to work before we’re done? Just to stop again? I don’t know if I’d like a nanny...”

Bess slid down from her position on top of the table to rest cross-legged on the bench, now fully facing Drystan. It looked like they were about to strike up a deal, which very well may be the case.

He blinked, because this hadn't been his anticipated topic of discussion, not by a mile. Folding up the paper in a slow, meticulous manner to buy him and his thoughts some time, he laid it aside and said in a measured tone, "That's your decision."

It had been just a year since they'd officially decided that Bess would be staying home. Drystan wouldn't deny that the choice relieved him, but he'd find it hard to begrudge her the want or need to return to her professional life. She had worked hard to get where she was, if she felt that itch to jumpstart her already-halted progress, of course he would support her.

"I would never hold you back from what you wanted," he told her, and didn't quite consider it a lie, because he recognized personal, selfish feelings for what they were.

But did she think he was pressuring her into having more children, he wondered suddenly. He tried to think back on any comments or actions by him that would lead Bess into thinking that, and while he drew a blank, he tried to broach the subject broadly to appease any of her fears. "Regardless of if we, er," his gaze flicked behind her to the three hellions, "had more children." He tried to stop the upward lilt in his tone at the end of the sentence, therefore avoiding making it a question. He congratulated himself on being one-fourths successful.

Her eyebrow quirked, “Say that...if--if,” Bess put up a finger to further her point, “I felt ready to...start maybe trying to conceive, do you think that’s fair to my employer?” She hated to babble, and to dance around the subject, but she felt a sudden rush of nervousness she normally didn’t around Drystan. Brian had been a surprise, a happy surprise, but most definitely a surprise. She’d never had the chance to sit and actually...plan on getting pregnant. It was a strange feeling, as being pregnant wasn’t one of her favorite forms of herself, but the idea of expanding their family...though the more that she thought about it, it was really about having Drystan’s children and creating something out of their love and---

---oy, she’d turned into a right sap, hadn’t she?

Bess tried to brush her thoughts off, to seem like this was just a casual discussion; it would be best to gauge her husband’s opinion on the matter, right? She listened as the screeching of their children came closer, and Bess pulled her feet up to allow the three of them to dash underneath the bench. There were a few bumps against the wood heard, and she winced, but when no cries were heard and the parade rushed away again, she let out a breath.

“I suppose I could find something that’s not so permanent,” she said lightly, “Though I do enjoy being home---it’s a strange position to be in.”

His head whipped around to follow their path, then turned back to answer Bess, trying desperately to keep up with the thread of conversation. "I—ah, there's always free-lancing?" Did that apply to her profession? It might. "Contracting." What did he know, really?

"I don't quite—" he was saying, when the rest of her words really sank in, causing him to blink a second time. Conceive? What did she mean by that? To stop himself blinking yet again, lest he involuntarily give himself a seizure, he folded his hands on the table in front of him and studied his wife carefully with slightly narrowed eyes. She did seem... different. More nervous than normal, was that it? And perhaps a fidget or two to accompany those supposed nerves.

"Where is this coming from?" he chose to ask instead, extending a hand across the table top to lay over hers.

She blushed. She blushed. Oh, it was all rather silly, wasn’t it? One minute she was daydreaming about having another baby, most certainly a girl, and the next she was in a panic about whether or not she was setting a good example for her daughter (and future daughters!) for staying home with the children. She should use her brains! She was smart! Bess had worked hard, but she loved her babies and wanted to have more. Maybe she could be okay with a nanny...but that would require a long, long interview process and background checks and security measures...

“I want to have another baby,” she muttered, because that’s what it was when it came down to it. Bess smiled and shrugged, pulling her knees up to rest her chin on them. “To keep them close in age for when they’re older, I think it’s better. But that would mean at least another year or two at home, and I’m going to get rusty if I don’t practice law and its...very confusing.”

Bess smirked, feeling her blush spread down her neck. She hated being unsure of things, it went against her nature.

He froze.

There was sense in what she was saying, he could see it. Sorcha was his best friend, but the seven year gap between him and Penelope felt like eons when he had been growing up, and there had been no small amount of resentment because of it. When he got over it, he felt more like her father than a brother, and though his sisters were infinitely closer, he often thought their bond had been the same. But Bess and he had never talked about having children. It probably seemed superfluous, what with her having Sadie and him having Stephen before their relationship even started. Nor had they spoken about having additional children, which also became superfluous when Brian came along without giving two whits about anyone else's schedule.

Drystan assumed they were done after Brian… but no, they had never discussed it, had they? He loved their troublesome brood, he really did, but he felt content for things to remain as they were. Eventually, he thought Bess would return to work, and their children would grow up, and they'd, well, did what he did? Fly the nest, but stop by for tea every now and then? Or something like that.

"I don't know that I'm ready for that," he said slowly, drawing his hand back.

It took her a second to understand what he’d said, and when she did her weak smile fell. Really? Bess gave herself a little shake, to get rid of the falter that had come across her face. She waved a hand at Drystan nonchalantly.

“Oh, yes I mean---not right now, of course,” she scoffed, as if he were silly for thinking that she wanted, needed this baby right away, right now, this instant. No, no, except that she’d been willing to stop taking her potions tonight, and she’d be willing to go to St. Mungo’s for a checkup to make sure everything was still in working order. Not that she had doubts, but it was the smart thing to do.

This was a strange feeling; she and Drystan had their disagreements, of course, but to not be on the same page when it came to their lives and future startled her. Was she being selfish, having found herself ready to have more kids without figuring out if her husband was? It had just been a thought, a feeling, an itch. Why weren’t they on the same page? Why hadn’t she noticed? No, no, her thoughts had just jumbled, they’d rushed through her, this had been a spur of the moment blurted idea that she had not planned on presenting to her husband. Bess never jumped into things like this, and she found that she was annoyed with herself for it.

“---it was just an idea, really.” Bess smiled at her husband, nodding once to show that she understood, even though she didn’t. She dropped her chin back to the top of her knees and her eyes immediately caught sight of their monstrous trio. She let out a breath.

The feeling of relief was immediate and undeniable. The idea of children, certainly, that he could discuss. But when it became more than that, when it was reality, it simply made him freeze. If he thought about it, he never really pictured himself having any children, let alone three. He loved them all, more than he knew he was capable of, but he felt, at least for now, it was enough. He was content with, utterly so, with the way everything was now. Just the way it was, with everything in its place.

They were all so young, he thought, it would be easy to say, well, what's one more going to hurt? But even Drystan knew that wasn't the most appropriate way to receive a child into the world. When it came down to it, he thought it was a question of energy, and that he felt he didn't have much more to give. He wanted to be selfish, if indeed that's what it was, and enjoy the time with his family. Nothing new, nothing surprising, nothing more stressful than they already had, because he knew that's what would happen.

But because he could see her eyes, saw the drawn brows, the contemplative expression, he felt she had possibly not meant all she said. It seemed as though she'd given him an out, and this time, he'd chosen to take it. He reached out his hand to brush back her hair, then stroke down her cheek. "Some day," he said softly. "Some day, it will be good to talk about these things."

It wasn't concrete, it wasn't as much of a promise as he wished it was, but it was the best he had at that very moment.

Drystan stood and kept his hand cupped to her jaw, then bent to kiss her forehead. When he pulled back, it was slowly, still taking her in as his fingers trailed away from her skin. "Dinner. I'll—let me get started on that."

As he turned to the house and started walking, the older two darted in front of him, leaving little Brian trailing behind on his always-unsteady legs. Drystan swept him up in his arms despite the giggly protests, and planted a big kiss on his downy head before dropping him back down and giving him a little nudge on his way.

Someday, he'd said. Perhaps it might be closer than he expected.